Death Be Not Proud
by FadingStarlight
Summary: Harry Potter was abused and was saved. He is taken into a world he would have otherwise not known. AU, Dark!Necromancer!Harry, Future HP/LV, non-graphic abuse, M/M
1. The Dursleys

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter One: The Dursleys

A little boy of five years knelt on the ground as the sun slowly made its way through the sky. It was summer and he was given chores to make Aunt Petunia's garden the pride of the neighborhood. He could feel sweat start to roll down his back and it wasn't even blistering hot as summer days tend to get.

Harry Potter was a solemn boy, used to receiving glares instead of smiles, cuffs to the head instead of hugs, and scraps instead of meals. He dared not complain of his treatment here. He knew it could be worse. Surely, he knew, because he heard so many stories of unlucky children from his Aunt and Uncle and where those usually ended up. That and the few times he did complain when he was younger, he got thrown into his cupboard and wasn't let out for days. But even then he was lucky that he had at least gotten food while being punished. He looked back on those times and realized how foolish it had been to complain. He would never be treated like his cousin and that was that.

Inside, he could hear Dudley bellowing over the lack of pancakes although from the smell of it, Aunt Petunia had already cooked two boxes of pancake mix.

As he dug the hoe into the ground and continued to pick out the weeds, he couldn't help but feel a burning contempt for his family despite his resolution that he was a lucky boy.

At the end of the day, Harry sprawled onto his lumpy bed and closed his eyes. The dark had always scared him, and he often wished fervently for light. His breathing deepened and in his mind, he saw a shining pulsing core of the purest white. He had found this trick in holding off the dark and every time he did it, he felt waves of comfort pouring into him. Often before, he imagined that this is what it would've felt like to be hugged by Aunt Petunia when he used to wish for such things.

This year, a neighbor had inquired as to why a little boy of five was seen doing garden work. He remembered Aunt Petunia's dark expression but her stiff lips formed a fake smile that looked more like a grimace and had replied with a "Oh yes. The boy does love his gardening. I tell him to come inside all the time but he just doesn't want to leave. You know how boys are, always wanting to play with dirt and mud, always giving us trouble!" Here she gave a fake laugh while the neighbor hesitatingly agreed.

The next day Harry was roughly woken up, scrubbed clean, and dressed in one of Dudley's old clothes that he outgrew years ago. At first, he was terrified because he came to the conclusion that they meant to abandon him in an orphanage. ("You daft child! We're taking you to school!") With excitement, Harry had literally obeyed every order and command until he was sitting snug in the backseat while Dudley sat next to him viciously kicking his shins once in a while. After five minutes in the car, the pain in his shins overrode his excitement and he had shoved Dudley hard while yelling "Stop kicking me Dudley!"

Dudley roared with anger and in retaliation, readied to slam into the slighter boy. Petunia had become alarmed and looked back into the backseat to yell at the freak because it was always his fault for ruining any and everything. As the chubby boy launched himself at Harry, who gave a frightened squeak, his unbuckled seat belt shot forward and quickly snagged the boy, wrapping itself snugly around and with a click buckled itself.

Petunia screeched as Dudley screamed. Vernon almost crashed into another car when he glanced into the front mirror only to see his struggling son encased within the seat belt.

Suffice to say, Harry had not attended preschool that day or any other day.

Later that year, Harry Potter now understood the burning he felt in his chest whenever he thought about the Dursleys. That day had started a period of worsening conditions for little Harry. He was confined to the house, and was often beaten whenever strange things happened and even when strange things didn't happen. It was always his fault, and Harry couldn't understand how or why it was this way but he could understand the pain he felt when being slammed into the wall. He understood very well the feeling of his uncle's fists coming down upon his soft and unprotected stomach, then upon his back whenever he curled up into a little ball. Those things, he understood very well.

At age six, despite their wishes, the Dursleys sent him to school for the first time. There, he met his first grade teacher, Mrs. Alice Kinde, who took an instant liking to him despite his quiet and shy ways. The few hours in the day that he spent with her gave him warm fuzzy feelings. She often called him a "sweet little thing" but didn't treat him any differently than the other children. Often times, Harry wished he never had to leave school and was seen sitting on one of the benches outside the school as he waited to be picked up by the Dursleys. Mrs. Kinde would always wait with him, as was the procedure of every teacher, to ensure that children were picked up by their guardians. Harry felt guilty as he sat there, fiddling with the frayed edges of a book bag as he waited. It was getting colder and colder, and for once he was grateful for the second hand sweater that he was forced to wear. It literally dwarfed him in size, as the arms went way past his hands.

He was always the last to leave. Although Mrs. Kinde was the first person that ever showed a little bit of concern for him, he felt that he was wasting her time.

As he looked up at her, he felt that he had to explain and in that quiet afternoon in autumn, his life was forever changed.

He had been placed in an orphanage. They had relinquished their parental rights over him and that was the end of his life with them. As he got out of the car, he thought of the teacher that he had trusted with his secret and had used them to betray him. Her face had gotten more and more closed off the more he had tried to explain why he hadn't wanted to go home. She had informed the authorities and one thing led to another and now, here he was. There had even been a small blurb in the newspapers about what had happened to him, that they were fortunate to have saved the poor boy before the abuse worsened.

That night, he laid on his bed surrounded by strange boys that he didn't know in an alien environment. The lights were off and he was fine with that since he no longer feared the dark. He had learned to take comfort in the darkness when he was forced into his little cupboard because he knew that neither Petunia nor Vernon would be there.

"Well. They'll never be there ever again." he quietly told himself. What's done is done, he resolved in his mind. He tried to accept that Mrs. Kinde had done what she thought was best for him but he couldn't be sure if this change was for the best.

He still reached for that white light inside himself, but not as often as before. Tonight, it was just what he needed. Reaching inside himself, Harry easily found the white ball of light which he noticed had gotten larger but still filled him with a sense of warmth and reassurance. Recently, he had taken to touching the light in his dream and it filled him with such pleasure as it spread between his fingers and into him. Basking in the energy, Harry felt better and was about to open his eyes when he noticed that behind it, there was a black hole.

That was strange. When had he started imagining a black hole? In his mind, he moved towards the hole and started to travel through it, trying to find the end.

Suddenly there was pain. White scorching hot pain. He could hear himself screaming as the pain intensified. It was like his skin was being stripped off his bones, his veins being bled dry. Distantly, he could feel his body arch open, his hands scratching his arms, and slickness. He screamed and screamed, mindless agony that he had never knew before. Abruptly, he felt something like a push sensation amongst the agony and realized he was being forced back through the tunnel. He was about to loose consciousness when something akin to a wave of power washed through him, dimming the pain.

A clear but weak voice. _Who are you?_

The darkness took him.

He woke up to find room that he shared with the other boys ruined. The glasses of the windows had shattered and it looked as though a whirlwind had blown through the room. The sleeping boys were all gone and he was hit with the realization that he had done this. Him.

Shaking, he got up and gingerly left the room, avoiding all the broken glass and rubble.

It was.. his fault? It was! But how... This.. couldn't have been his fault... could it? Fear thudded in his heart as he briefly saw parts of the dream that he had that night. A voice... maybe... but he couldn't remember. Was Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon really right about him being a freak?

In fear and confusion, he ran out into the hallway, and into the caretaker's office. Bursting into the small room, he panted as he stared at the two people inside.

The matron of the orphanage, who had looked so kindly at him while taking him from the Dursleys, now stared at him in fear. In hurt, Harry wondered if she thought him a freak.

Not wanting to look at her, he looked at the other woman in the office. She was the most beautiful woman that Harry had ever seen in his life. She looked at him with a cool expression. Her eyes, very briefly, flicked to his forehead and she smiled.

"Ah-hem." His eyes flew to the matron's. "Harry, this woman here is Mrs. Malfoy and she heard about what happened."

The matron held up a document and said "She's here about an adoption."


	2. Meeting the Malfoys

Chapter 2: Meeting the Malfoys

To Harry, Mrs. Malfoy looked like an angel sent from God. The sunlight filtering in from the window gave her blond hair a beautiful glow making it look as though she had a halo. She sat perfect and poised in the armchair. Amongst the simplicity of the office room and the clutter of cheap baubles that the matron had collected over years, there she was. It gave Harry a surreal impression of the whole thing.

Before he had known it, he had taken one step towards her. The troubles that had been violently churning in his mind since he awoke quieted and calmed in the presence of this woman. And she wanted to adopt him?

With a sudden start, he snapped out of his daze. She wanted to adopt him?

Quietly, he walked over to the vacant seat and sat down facing the matron of the orphanage.

She looked at him in apprehension before clearing her thoughts and setting down the document she held on the desk.

"Of course, we need to file the papers for the adoption. If it goes through, as I'm sure it will, we need to arrange trial periods to make sure the transition goes as smoothly as possible for you." She tentatively smiled at him. Whatever troubled her about Harry had apparently been set aside as she tried to act professionally.

She glanced hesitatingly at Mrs. Malfoy before telling Harry, "I want to let you know that another family has filed for your adoption." She apparently thought it was strange, and Harry agreed with her. There were so many children left in the orphanages, the chances of a family wanting him... and him being the age that he already was, Harry found it bizarre indeed.

After the spectacle that had happened with the Dursleys, Harry had resigned himself to be without a family when he heard he was to be moved to the orphanage.

And now he was given this chance?

The matron stood, carrying two folders of documents. "I'll just get these sent. I'll give you some time with Mrs. Malfoy here before she leaves."

Before she left, Harry stopped her with a question. "Ma'am, if you don't mind telling me, who is the other family?"

"You are such a polite one... I don't know what those boys were talking about." she mumbled to herself before replying. "A family called the Weasley's have also filled out the applications."

Mrs. Malfoy frowned as the matron left the room, grumbling to herself about strange storms and nightmare induced hysterics.

Left in the quiet office, with a possible foster mother, Harry looked at her uncertain about what to say but that was okay because Mrs. Malfoy didn't seen to have any problem with words.

Earnest, she leaned towards him to hold his hand and said, "Harry, when news reached the wizarding world about what happened to you, many were devastated."

"What? Wizarding world? " Wizarding world... Wizards? Was this woman insane?

Sitting back in shock, Mrs. Malfoy released his hand as thoughts and plans raced through her head.

She had thought that getting Harry Potter's attention would be best attained by showing sympathy and acting how a doting mother would. In the hours before arriving, she had gone through several plans, each with its own methods and calculations, processing, discarding and modifying, all made with the goal of getting Harry Potter.

Was the boy playing with her? Could he really not know of the wizarding world? Of his wizard blood and heritage?

Looking at him, she understood that this was a very likely scenario. If those filthy muggles had dared to harm a child with magical blood, how could they resist the damage they could cause by denying him his heritage?

Narcissa had wanted to execute this plan of hers without any emotional attachments. She, like her husband, was a master of controlling her emotions and actions. But denying her feelings or letting any sprout up without giving them consideration was allowing a weakness to form. Therefore, at the thought of a magical child being denied their magic, she acknowledged the growing outrage she felt take hold in her blood.

Just in case, she slipped her wand out of the small handbag she was forced to carry. Witches and wands were perfectly normal in places like Diagon Ally. They were not in muggle orphanages.

Seeing no reaction other than a skeptical raise of a brow, Narcissa resolved that he really had no idea. If he had, then he knew the danger she posed to him as he was unarmed. She didn't expect a boy of his age to have mastered control over his body or expressions so even if he had some partial control, the widening of the eyes or quick hitch of breath would have been a clear sign of discomfort or panic.

That he showed neither meant that the wand in her hands was but a stick of wood in his eyes.

"Magic," she simply explained. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a song bird which sat at the end of her wand. It gave a shrill note before she cast the killing curse at the creature. Because it was conjured, it simply disappeared instead of falling dead.

All this, Harry Potter watched with a calculating look in his eyes. The existence of magic shocked him but maybe that shock came from the freeing of something chained. He could almost imagine that same green light obliterate all the restrictions that the Dursley's had placed upon him like chains binding him to slavery. He felt that, yes, he had always known magic existed. He had denied it to himself for a very long time, but deep down in the very core of his being, it was there.

The way that Mrs. Malfoy spoke of it when he himself was forbidden to even utter that word...

He licked his lips. "Why are you telling me this?"

She put her wand away as she came up with a solution that would draw the boy closer to her. "You carry magic in your blood, Mr. Potter, just as I do. There is an entire world that would do much for you." She tilted her head as she wondered how he would take this news. "Like I said, many were devastated to hear of your abuse in the wizarding world. You are a very important person."

Him important? It was almost blasphemy to Harry's ears and it seemed too good to be true.

"What did I do that was so good?" Harry asked. All his life, he was a nobody. To find out otherwise gave him a bigger shock than the revelation that magic existed.

Narcissa wasn't sure how to explain this to him. If he came to stay with the Malfoy family, she refused to come between him and her husband when disagreements broke out. Also, she wanted him to be sympathetic towards her family. Harry Potter as he was, was a humble quiet boy, just waiting for a change that would trigger his descent into manhood. What could she possibly say... "You defeated a mad man for the light, Harry."

She hated to tell him this. She could just envision the countless hours it would take to overturn this idea. But if she was caught lying, as surely as she would have to explain later, she could lose the boy's fragile burgeoning trust in her.

The answer puzzled Harry. He still couldn't believe he was special so he simply acknowledged it and put it aside. He didn't care much for his past because that's where it was, in the past. What he wanted more, what he craved for, was magic.

"Can you tell me more about magic?" He asked, peering up at her.

Nacissa smiled. This was a much easier question and one that she would gladly divulge.

She started by explaining the differences in wizards and muggles. She talked about the world of wizards, so different and infinitely more bewitching than the muggle world he knew. Wizards, and wizard robes, spells, enchantments, curses, and wands. All this she explained briefly and all this he absorbed, eager and wanting to learn even more.

"You can bring a person back from the edge of death with a simple spell." she told him as he listened enraptured. "You can also destroy his life just as easily."

The matron came back soon after and Harry was disappointed when Narcissa quieted.

"Well the papers have been sent." The matron bustled about the office. Mrs. Malfoy stood from her seat.

"Wonderful. Well, I have much to do." Mrs. Malfoy told her. She turned to Harry. "It was a delight to meet you, Harry. I will visit again, don't worry. I'm sure you have much to think of until then."

Harry watched her with emerald eyes filled with curiosity, and with a hint of budding childish love. "Bye, Mrs. Malfoy."

Seeing this, Narcissa smiled and briefly touched his shoulder before leaving.

The matron watched the interaction with a relieved smile. "That, there, is a good sign." She observed. "Now, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have also been filed for and they should be stopping by later this afternoon. How about you clean up and play with the boys outside until then?"

Without further ado, Harry slipped out of the chair and went back to the dorm.

He was astounded to see it whole. With the curtains pulled back, sunlight shined through the windows. The nightmare of this morning was gone, the glass from the shattered windows was back in place and not even a crack to show what had happened. The splinters of wood from the beds and trunks were restored and sat just as they were before this morning. Everything was how it was before he had stepped foot yesterday evening.

Was it magic?

With Mrs. Malfoy gone, he had no one else to ask. She had told him that they were all muggles here. They had no idea of magic or wizards. For some reason, this comforted him. It gave him a good feeling, as though he held a secret that no one else but him and Mrs. Malfoy knew.

After taking a brief shower, he stepped outside where he could hear the loud boisterous hollers of young children. At the door, he wavered watching them, trying to get up the courage to join them. It wasn't even a couple minutes passed that an older boy, who looked to be about eight, noticed the small figure standing in front of the door.

"Hey!" He called to the other boys. "It's the freak!"

The game was stopped as the group of children, mostly older than he, formed into a small crew in front of Harry.

Harry stood, rooted in place and gripped in uncertainly. It was déjà-vu all over again, and he could just see Uncle Vernon stomping towards him with his fists and angry scowls. But he was no longer in that time! The boys in front of him remained as boys although he could see the same violent streak in them as he had in Dudley.

Another boy pushed his way to the front of the group. He was the eldest, being almost fourteen, and easily towered over Harry, who had always been a slight boy. He had mousy brown hair, shaggy as it reached his shoulders, and narrowed gray eyes. He seized the position of leader.

"You know what they used to do to people who did sorcery, freak?" He sneered at him. "They burned!"

Harry ran inside.

The boys didn't chase him. Harry knew from experience that if he had been outside, they would have most likely chased him until he was caught. His heart was pounding as he ran into the bathroom, terrified with adrenaline coursing in his veins.

He locked the door and leaned against it, trying to quiet his loud uneven breathing. He continued to tremble. He berated himself furiously repeating mindlessly that it would never change but he would always survive. There was nothing, nothing, they could do to him that he wouldn't survive.

In the midst of his whirling thoughts came one: I'm a wizard. Harry paused. Yes, he was. He repeated this statement in his head, savoring the possibilities that it came with. I'm a wizard. I'm a wizard. And I have power they don't.

All those times he had done something unexpected... like when he had gotten away from Dudley and his gang. When he seemed to completely disappear from their view even though he was right in front of their noses. It was magic, and Harry was a wizard who could harness it. These thoughts brought to Harry a sense of unshakable strength. He resolved to never again feel fear towards muggles.

Later that evening, after Harry had made that promise to himself, the matron found him in the dorm room where he sat on his bed in deep concentration. Harry had been trying to make something happen, anything to show himself that he could do magic. So far, nothing had happened and it frustrated him greatly. He had taken a break and decided to reach for that calmly white sphere inside of him before the matron had interrupted him.

"Mr. And Mrs. Weasley are here." Instead of leading him to her small office where they would've surely been cramped for space, she took him to the small sitting room.

As soon as he entered the room, he was seized in a great hug that left him more panicked than comforted as hugs were supposed to do.

"You poor poor boy!" The woman who Harry assumed was Mrs. Weasley wailed as Mr. Weasley tried to pry her off.

"Now, dear, I don't think...!" He huffed as he managed to get her off and Harry took a quick step back to stand behind one of the chairs. "Dear, don't suffocate the boy!"

Harry did not like this one bit at all. He felt that his poor heart had enough surprises today. First he had woken up to the destruction of the dorm, then he had been threatened by a bunch of Dudley-wannabes and now this mother from hell assaulted him. There had to be a limit for one day right?

"Oh Harry, I'm sorry for how I acted." Mrs. Weasley dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "I just started thinking about what those horrible Dursleys did to you! I couldn't stand it thinking what if my little Ronnie or Ginny went through the same thing..."

The other occupants of the room looked away in embarrassment as the woman got herself under control.

To Harry's relief, there was no further outbursts from anyone and the matron settled them into the comfortable chairs and couches before leaving to get snacks.

Once again, the matron explained the situation to the Weasleys. They didn't seem surprised to hear that the Malfoys were also interested in taking Harry into their family.

After Mrs. Weasley had calmed down, Harry found that she was actually a nice lady despite being too emotional at times. Mr. Weasley was also nice to talk to and overall Harry felt that the Weasleys must be a warm loving family. The Weasleys told him about their family, five boys and one girl. Harry couldn't even fathom the possibility of having so many children.

Unfortunately, he didn't feel as though he could fit into their family. With six children, Harry worried that he'd lose his sense of self in a family that large. That and after meeting Mrs. Malfoy, he felt that he already knew where he wanted to be. Mrs. Weasley, even if she was a nice lady, couldn't be compared to Mrs. Malfoy in his mind. Mrs. Malfoy had shown him acceptance and motherly love in her own dignified way while Mrs. Weasley tried to constantly show her affection through physical means, like hugs and the pinching of his cheeks. He felt that she already thought of him as her son and he didn't feel comfortable with how comfortable she was with him.

Mrs. Weasley was the perfect image of what Harry had wanted when he was much younger, before he had undergone the abuse the Dursleys had inflicted upon him. A loving, doting mother was all he had wanted but now... he felt he needed much more than that.

After they had left, with just him and the matron sitting in the room, Harry turned to her and said "I think I'd really like to try staying with the Malfoys."

The matron was puzzled by this but adhered to his wishes.

All the documentation was settled within a week. In that week, Harry couldn't avoid the boys that he lived with. They continued to threaten him and constantly called him a demon or witch and had even once tried to set his bed on fire while he was away. The matron had found out about the animosity between Harry and the other orphans and had harshly punished the boys with extra chore work. The punishments only made the boys hate Harry even more.

Away from the matron's gaze, it often came close to physical fighting but Harry was clever enough to know how to slip out of those situations.

It only incited the boys to confront him but Harry only had a week before he had to pack away.

He had met with Mrs. Malfoy two more times and learned about her family. She had a son named Draco Malfoy, who was his age, and had even shown him a moving picture of the boy. The little boy, who had her same blond hair and big gray eyes, held a stuffed dragon in front of him and had shyly waved at Harry. Harry had marveled at the moving picture but even more so at the little boy who would become Harry's brother.

He had also confided to Mrs. Malfoy that the Weasleys had seemed too much for him. She had quietly agreed and said a boy in his position needed more singular care. Harry felt, at that moment, that he had made the right choice because she understood him so well.

The day he left the orphanage, Harry had left with a calm reassurance that he was starting a new life. Mrs. Malfoy had been by his side and he had left with confidence. He determined to leave behind the world of the muggles and embrace this new world that Mrs. Malfoy offered him.

They took a cab before Mrs. Malfoy urged him out of the vehicle. Taking hold of his hand, she pulled him into an abandoned building and warned him to hold tight. She apparated them to the Malfoy estate.

The first time Harry saw Malfoy Manor, he gawked at its size with unrestrained emotion that only a child could show.

A light tinkling laugh showed Mrs. Malfoy's amusement. With a light touch to his shoulder, she assured him saying "Don't worry child, the manor has been informed of your presence." With a quirk of her lips, she added, "It will not swallow you whole, surely."

Although her words were meant to comfort, Harry still felt dwarfed by its size.

Mrs. Malfoy knelt in front of him, gazing into his eyes. "This is your new home. You have no reason to fear."

Harry nodded and resolutely grasped her offered hand.

Home... It'd be nice to have one of those.

Once they were inside, Mrs. Malfoy explained that he would be taken to his set of rooms where someone named Dibby would take care of him. The entrance hall they were in was huge and the walls were lined with portraits of Malfoy ancestors. Many of them looked at him in speculation but mostly ignored his presence.

"Dibby!" Mrs. Malfoy ordered. "Take Harry to his rooms and prepare him for dinner."

Harry was reluctant to separate from her but followed her orders nonetheless as she disappeared down another hall.

A creature that he had learned was a house elf appeared. She was dressed in an altered blue pillowcase and had large droopy ears. Her bright green eyes took in Harry's form and became distressed.

"Muggle clothing! That being not appropriate for here Master Harry! Master Harry is to be getting ready for supper!" Dibby told him, as she ushered him down the hall. "In, in, in!" She pushed him through a door that led into another large room. Harry didn't have enough time to take it in before she moved him through another door that led to a bathroom.

Before Harry knew it, the large bathtub was being filled with hot water. Dibby ran frantic between the cabinets, pulling out several bottles and vials. She dumped some of them into the water causing bubbles to spring up and fragrances to fill the air.

Harry yelped in indignation as the elf spelled his clothes off before ushering him into the bath.

"Filthy things! These will be burning!" With a pop, she apparated out of the room with his clothes. Harry felt dazed as he sat in the bathwater.

Another pop signaled the return of Dibby as she hurried over with another bottle of what appeared to be shampoo. "Dibby!" Harry exclaimed as she poured a large amount of shampoo on his head. "I can wash myself!"

"No time, Master Harry! The masters is not to be waiting, Mistress Malfoy is saying Master Harry is to be making a good impression." Harry gave in and tried to stay out of the house elf's way.

Soon enough, he was ushered out of the tub and into the room while wrapped in a huge fluffy white towel. Laid out on the huge bed were a set of clothes already prepared beforehand. Dibby had grabbed the underwear that was also included and turned to Harry whose face had turned into a bright red.

"I really want to do this part myself, Dibby!" Harry pleaded as he clutched the towel. Still holding the underwear, Dibby gave him a long stare as though to say "You have nothing I haven't seen before." before finally nodding and popping away.

Harry sighed in relief and dressed himself quickly. He had the feeling that if he took too long, Dibby would pop right back in and just drag him out no matter his state of dress.

He was partially correct as not even five minutes later, Dibby apparated next to him with a comb in her long fingered hands. She sat him down in front of a mirror, and standing on a stool, set about the task of taming his wild hair.

After another five minutes of his hair constantly puffing back up and disobeying the laws of gravity, Dibby gave a wail of distress. "Master Harry is to be sitting in the table early, Mistress said!" She combed it once again and shrieked in mounting hysteria. "What is Dibby be doing with this!" It still refused to behave and soon Harry was left staring at Dibby in horror as the house elf started thumping herself on the head with the flat side of the comb. "Dibby is being a horrid, horrid house elf!" She wailed.

He frantically grabbed a hold of her hands. "Dibby! It's just the way my hair is, it's not your fault so stop hurting yourself!"

With dewy eyes, Dibby stared up at him in admiration. "Master Harry is being a kind master, but Mistress was saying Harry is to be looking like a young proper wizard. Dibby has failed."

Just then, Dibby saw the clock and gave another squeak as she noticed the time. Just as she started to move Harry out the room, someone knocked on the door.

Mrs. Malfoy entered, taking in the sight of Harry who was no longer in the muggle clothes he had worn earlier that day. She was satisfied with his appearance for he looked to be a proper wizarding boy with his lovely dark green robes. Only one thing was wrong, and it was resolved quickly with a flick of her wand.

The boy's hair fell around his face, maintaining its soft waves but no longer flying about in the air. "Come, its time to meet Draco and your father." With an audible sigh of relief, Dibby was released of her duties until after dinner.

Harry walked with her down the hall, grateful that the entire fiasco with Dibby was over and done with. As he walked besides his new mother, he felt the slow build of anticipation at the prospect of meeting the rest of his new family.

At the table, Narcissa introduced Harry to his new father, Lucius Malfoy. He was an intimidating man and reminded Harry of an eagle. Looking at him, he just got the sense of someone that was dignified and regal. As soon as he had set his eyes on Mr. Malfoy, Harry had badly wanted to impress him. Mrs. Malfoy had quickly become someone important to him. If he messed things up with her husband, would she send him back to the orphanage?

Draco Malfoy was an older version of the picture of the little toddler that Narcissa had shown him. He had stood by his father's side but what surprised Harry the most was the resentment that was in his eyes. Harry was disappointed but determined that he would make Draco Malfoy his best friend if not his brother.

It was a quiet dinner, with soft spoken conversation while music played in the background. Harry was surprised when it had first started but could not find from where it was playing. It was most likely magic, he figured.

To Harry, the dinner was more confusing than enjoyable. As soon as he was seated, across from Draco, he noticed the many different forks and spoons. Embarrassed and unsure of which utensil to pick up, Harry kept his hands in his lap. As a small salad appeared in front of him, Harry decided to just go for it and take the risk of looking like a fool. He picked the fork closest to his plate. He couldn't pick it up. Getting nervous, he tried the other end and was able to pick it up. There was some sort of spell placed on the utensils and Harry was grateful for them.

During dinner, Mrs. Malfoy brought up light conversation. Draco would often become animated during the conversation only to fall back into silence. Whenever that happened, Mrs. Malfoy would frown at Draco before engaging Mr. Malfoy or Harry in another subject.

Afterward, Mr. Malfoy officially welcomed him into the Malfoy family and requested that Harry come talk to him for a short time. "There is much we need to discuss," he told Harry.

After dinner, Harry found himself waiting patiently in Lucius' study still filled with that nervous anticipation that hadn't receded even after meeting his new father and brother. He had wanted a chance to talk to Draco, and maybe find out what was wrong with him.

When Lucius entered the room, he noticed his ward sitting stiff and nervous in the chair across from his desk. He felt a slither of satisfaction inside of him to see the boy squirm with unpleasant feelings. His expression, however, was one of a father indulging a son that had done something wrong.

"Please," he gestured to the couches near the fireplace. "I want us to be more comfortable. I have much to discuss with you."

Harry nodded and moved towards the couches, sitting down on the plush leather. He was such a small child, that even on the couch made for two people; he left much room for others.

Lucius sat himself in an armchair opposite of the boy. "Has Narcissa told you of purebloods?"

Of course she hadn't. Narcissa had informed him of everything they had said and talked over. She did not go over these details because she had just been the lure to bring to boy to the real danger: Lucius.

The boy shook his head and Lucius dismissed the tendril of annoyance at the gesture. "Answer properly with a yes or no when asked a question, boy."

Harry looked at him in dread. "Yes sir."

Lucius gave a cool smile. "Good. Now. The wizarding society is made of three things, my boy." He told him. "Purebloods, mudbloods, and traitors. Do you know which we are?"

With a hesitant pause, Harry said, "Purebloods? Sir?" Lucius nodded in satisfaction.

"Yes, the Malfoys are purebloods. But you," He pierced the boy with his eyes, intent on making this clear. "You... You are not. You have some muggle blood in you, boy."

Harry stared at him wide in alarm. "But don't worry. You have plenty of other ways to prove your worth with the Malfoy name. To be pureblood is to be superior. To be a Malfoy is to carry a burden of prestige, honor, and fidelity. Our... society, different from the entire wizarding world, has its own set of rules. You will eventually learn these."

Lucius observed him. To him, Harry Potter was a political move that would garner his family the prestige that it had lost in the previous war. He had donated a large amount of galleons to various causes after the first war and while the newspapers pretty much sang the praises of the Malfoy name, it was not enough. Associating the Boy-Who-Lived with the Malfoys would surely erase the stain that blemished his name.

"You have been brought up as a muggle for your entire life." Lucius said in distaste. He couldn't imagine a life of not knowing the magic that flowed in his veins, rich and pure from the blood of his ancestors.

"How did you like it there?" Lucius was determined to turn the boy to his side.

Immediately, Harry's face fell as he fidgeted with his fingers. Did he think that he should not speak ill of others? Lucius wondered at what morals the boy developed in an environment with those filthy muggles. "When they weren't hurting me, it was okay, sir," Harry resolutely told him. Lucius felt a stab of disappointment. He had much to work through.

"I see." There was nothing else he could do at this time. He had to think of a plan to slowly strip away the boy's disastrous upbringing and that needed time.

The boy continued to stare down at his fidgeting hands. Then he took a deep breath and just as Lucius was about to dismiss him, Harry licked his lips and lifted his chin. "No. I'm sorry sir, I lied. I hated it there." His hands clenched into fists. "They were terrible people. If I had a chance, I'd do it all over again but this time, I'd make sure that I'd give back everything they gave me."

The previous disappointment Lucius felt gave way to pleasing surprise. He smirked as he regarded Harry and with a pleased smile said, "I see."

* * *

With Dibby leading ahead of him, Harry made his way to his rooms.

He had a long chat with Mr. Malfoy. At first, he was uncomfortable in the man's presence for he felt like he was constantly watched and that every movement he made was dissected and analyzed. Harry told himself that he was just being paranoid.

Mr. Malfoy had informed him of tutoring session that he sorely needed since he lacked the basic upbringing that a wizarding child had. He was to be taught of this world and what was expected of him. Harry had always been eager to learn and this was no different. It was infinitely more interesting because it was about this new magical world that he found himself in. That and listening to Mr. Malfoy talk about the family name and its importance had left Harry feeling a sense of wanting to belong in such prominent family.

As he walked, he regretted that he had not had a chance to talk to Draco. He really wanted to be the boy's friend but he resolved that they had plenty of time to work through any problems and become best mates.

Dibby bounced on her feet as she stood in front of Harry's door. "Here we is, Master Harry! Goodnight and sweet dreams." She left with a bow and a soft pop.

Overall, it had been a good first night here at Malfoy Manor. He had to be content with that. He opened the door and quietly shut it closed.

"Finally. You took forever." He heard a voice say behind him. Harry whirled around in surprised and stared at the blond haired boy that was seated on the edge of his bed.

* * *

Lucius entered the master bedroom to see his wife seated at a desk that she kept there for writing letters.

Without even speaking a word, Lucius knew his wife was curious of his evaluation of their new charge. "He has much to learn," Lucius told her, "but he is not a hopeless cause as I first thought."

Narcissa smiled saying, "I am glad to hear it, my love."

Lucius came over to stand by her, leaning over to whisper in her ear as his eyes roamed over the parchment filled with her elegant writing. "He is the key to our family's redemption."

Narcissa paused in her writing, her dainty hand poised above the creamy parchment.

"Is that all the use you see in young Harry, my love?" she queried.

"The boy is a powerful tool," Lucius told her as he kissed her neck. "He can restore the family name to what it was before the mess of the last war. You know this."

Her lips quirked as she said, "Indeed, I do, but he is much more than that, my husband." She turned and kissed him briefly on the lips. "If you are wise, you will see that."

Lucius inclined his head, acknowledging her words but not taking them seriously. "As you say, my lovely wife."

* * *

A/N: I can't believe how huge this story is turning out to be... Thanks for reading!


	3. Becoming A Malfoy

A/N: Thanks to everyone that reviewed! I love hearing what other people think of the chapters and how I'm doing with the story. Thanks to Ann10550 for betaing for me ^^

* * *

Chapter 3: Becoming a Malfoy

The tutor was a stout man with graying hair. He must've been a fit young man in his earlier years but his burgeoning middle gave proof to the lack of activity. He towered over Harry but the boy was never afraid of him for he had a jovial face and was rarely seen without a smile.

Harry found that he enjoyed listening to the man's deep voice. For this lesson, he had been going over symbols in wizarding culture.

"Another widely used symbol is the serpent," the tutor continued. "Unfortunately, in many societies, the serpent has gained a negative connotation to it. I believe it's mainly due to the spread of Christianity which uses the snake as a representative of what they call the devil."

With his wand he conjured the image of a simple green garden snake.

"But the serpent has many meanings to it. In other societies, the serpent is seen as a clever and wise creature." He waved his wand again and the serpent flattened while a lion, badger, and raven appeared next to it. With another wand wave, the image of the Hogwarts' crest appeared.

Harry watched in fascination as each creature stared at him. The lion silently roared, the badger paced about its corner, while the raven had its beak opened in a soundless screech. The serpent just watched him with its deadly gaze with its forked tongue flickering out once in a while.

"To dark pureblood society, the serpent is a symbol of one of our most esteemed historical figures, Salazar Slytherin. Unfortunately, many wizards have shunned Lord Slytherin for his rather... radical views about mudbloods."

The crest disappeared. "And still, there are other societies that use this symbol."

"Like what sir?" Harry inquired.

The man hummed for a second before leaning on the desk Harry occupied.

"Well. The most fantastic story that many associate with the serpent is that of the necromancer guild." He waved his wand, once again conjuring the snake. With a flick, the snake swung in the air until it caught its tail in its mouth, filling Harry with the sense of déjà-vu. He stared mesmerized as the snake slowly spun in front of him. It looked... so achingly familiar as though he had previously traced his fingers over the scales of the snake countless times before. He could almost see it shining brightly in his mind. The slitted pupils of the snake stared at him, unprovocative but expectant.

"Many believe that this is the symbol that necromancers use..." Looking uncomfortable, the tutor then exclaimed, "Oh! But other organizations use it also. Like the Hypnos Guild. Have you heard of them?"

Harry shook his head, his thoughts still preoccupied with the image in front of him.

The tutor grinned, his smile edged in relief. He launched into a lecture about an organization based on seers and those who can perform divinations. That was apparently the Hypnos Guild which was named after a mythical god of sleep.

Although it was fascinating information, Harry was more curious about the necromancers. "Sir, what can necromancers do?"

The tutor stopped mid-speech, suddenly looking so serious that Harry almost regretted asking.

"Necromancy is one of the most archaic and unknown arts practiced... the guild that teaches it jealously guards their knowledge," he reluctantly divulged. Even more reluctantly, he added, "There are many rumors out there. Many of which say that necromancers lose parts of their soul... becoming less than human, in the pursuit of their craft."

He instantly brightened. "There no point in knowing much of them though. They're very reclusive and only make an appearance when it involves them... which isn't very often."

He paused, inspecting his student. Harry still watched him expectantly, like an open book waiting for an inked quill to fill its pages with information. He was delighted to have a student like Harry, so interested and very clever. He felt a chill run up his spine at the thought of Harry Potter as a necromancer.

_Very unlikely..._ He convinced himself to think this and shaking his head, he clapped his hands. "Ah, now where were we? Serpents yes? Well, I say we've discussed enough of that. Now... let's talk about, oh, I know! Hippogriffs! Yes, they actually are real creatures but the story behind them is, I must admit, fascinating! But then again, I was always a romantic..."

The tutor rambled off, talking about several more magical creatures and their impressions, before calling the end of the lessons for that day.

Harry slipped out of the library that they used for these lessons, his steps quiet on the marble floor. Before entering the hall, Harry ducked his head out the door to check if Draco was around. It was silly of him, he knew, but he felt that he needed to give the other boy more time.

Harry had been staying with the Malfoy's for a week now. He can honestly say that it had been both the best and most miserable week of his life. Outwardly, the Malfoys treated him as though he was one of their own. It was made public that Harry was staying with the Malfoys and was even on the way to being adopted. Ever since the paper proclaimed this, the Malfoys had received even more invitations to parties and gatherings. Mrs. Malfoy, who handled the social aspect of the family, politely declined the invitations, claiming that they needed more bonding time with Harry.

Narcissa seemed to be his only real ally in the household. Harry was reluctant to consider his elf nanny, Dibby, as a real ally for she only followed the orders of the Lord and Lady of the Malfoy House.

Mr. Malfoy was never mean to him, but didn't treat him any differently from an acquaintance. Earlier this week, the family had gone on an outing to a restaurant in Hogsmeade. A reporter had been lucky enough to snap a picture of Mr. Malfoy standing behind Harry with a hand on his shoulder as they were walking in.

When that picture appeared in the Prophet, Harry had wistfully thought that they did look like a real family despite his contrasting appearance. His still tanned skin and dark black hair were the opposite of the pale complexion and fair blond hair of the Malfoys. Harry told himself that he couldn't expect to immediately fit into the family and that all he needed to do was try his best to please Mr. Malfoy. That gave him hope and further compelled him to catch up in his studies to join Draco in his.

Draco was also another problem. In the orphanage, Narcissa often talked about her son and Harry had become attached to that rather sweet but spoiled child. The reality was sadly different. Simply put, Draco did not want to get along with Harry.

But he was sneaky and clever about the way he interacted with Harry. Around his mother and father, he often led Harry around, playing the proper role of elder brother, despite only being a month older. If they were alone, it was much different although he never resorted to physical violence. Draco seemed to have developed a personal vendetta against him, often blaming Harry for things that were out of his control.

_It's raining outside and I can't go flying! It's all your fault Potter!_ Harry mimicked to himself.

Speaking of flying, it was a nice day out. One of the things he loved about Malfoy Manor was how enormous the estate was. Although he had never tried it, there was plenty of room to fly and there were vast gardens that he enjoyed walking around whenever Draco frustrated him.

As he headed to his rooms, he saw something in the corner of his eye. Turning, Harry came face to face with a ghost. In fright, he squealed, backing into the wall behind him but it did no good as the ghost maintained the proximity.

Harry had never seen a ghost before, not in the entire week he had stayed in the manor. The ghost was transparent but looked solid enough that his features were distinguishable. He had the features of a Malfoy, although Harry couldn't make out his coloring. Being so up close, Harry was only able to breathe, hoping that it wouldn't do anything to him. If it was a Malfoy, surely it wouldn't hurt him right?

The ghost continued to stare into his eyes, and Harry could smell his rancid breath. It smelled of decaying flesh and Harry so badly wanted to retch though he didn't know how the ghost would react to being puked on... or puked through. His knees buckled as the stench worsened and he landed on the floor still trying to squeeze himself against the wall to get away from the ghost.

"_Do not seek death._" He heard it in his mind as the ghost breathed the words into his face. He squeezed his eyes in trepidation as the ghost leaned forward, the distance between them becoming shorter and shorter.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Draco said in a haughty voice. Harry's eyes flew open. The ghost was gone and Draco was staring at him standing outside what must be his bedroom. The boy had heard a light thud while getting ready to go outside. He had opened the door to find Potter scrunched up tight against the wall, looking unusually pale.

"I saw a ghost!" he exclaimed as he scrambled up from the floor.

Draco stared at him in disbelief. "Are you mad? There are no ghosts in Malfoy Manor."

"But I saw one!" Harry insisted. "He appeared out of no where and he said..." _Do not seek death._ Harry quieted, not wanting to reveal that information. Draco continued to give him suspicious looks as he replied, "I've lived here my entire life and I've never seen a single ghost." His nose went up in the air as though he believed Harry was completely daft.

"Well, if there really are ghosts of the manor coming back..." the blond wondered, "then they must really think you don't belong here!" He shot at Harry, crossing his arms.

Harry's residual fear gave way to hurt and frustration. "Look!" He grabbed the startled boy by the shoulder. "What is your problem?" Harry demanded. "I didn't do anything to you and I don't know why you're acting like this!"

"Don't touch me!" Draco exploded, knocking Harry's hand off his shoulder. He shoved Harry hard. "As if you don't know, you git! You come in here, famous Harry stinking Potter with your stupid scar and you take my parents away from me!" His eyes glittered in anger. "Be nice to Potter! Make sure he wants to stay with us! He's a very important person! It's like they've forgotten all about me!"

Nearby, a window broke as Draco gave a wordless scream of frustration before kicking his door open and retreating inside. A loud slam was heard. Harry was speechless. He had never thought of it that way, never having anyone that acted like parental figures to him.

But it did make sense the more he thought of it. Draco had been the sole recipient of his parent's attention and love for all his life and to have that taken from him so swiftly and suddenly... no wonder he acted that way against Harry.

Harry gripped his head, feeling very sorry for Draco and him because it was just a huge misunderstanding. Draco didn't realize how much Harry was looking forward to, not only being a Malfoy, but being his brother.

Inside the room, he could hear various things being thrown about and even some shattering of glass. He winced, glad that the other boy had enough dignity to never involve himself in physical fighting.

Taking a chance, Harry leaned against the closed door and called out, "Draco. Your mother isn't going to be happy about that."

A loud thud reverberated against the door. _Okay... bad idea_, Harry thought to himself. _Maybe... an apology?_

_Stop being such a coward, Harry!_ He berated himself.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out. The thudding of things being thrown stopped. That was... a start right?

"Draco, I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he tried to tell him. "I've... never had parents before. I didn't try to steal them from you, I swear! I've never had a brother before either... and I'd really like to be yours."

On the other side the door, Draco gripped the expensive glass snitch that his father had gotten for him as a birthday present. It had been next in line to meet its end against the wall.

Before all this had happened, Draco had frequently heard of Harry Potter. He often imagined meeting the boy and becoming his best friend. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, he often imagined. Everyone wanted to be Harry Potter's best friend. He was a hero after all, and Draco had often daydreamed about him and the legendary Harry Potter taking on the world.

But ever since Draco had heard about the boy's adoption into his family, it was all his parents talked about. It was all his friends talked about too. He didn't _want_ to share his family, his friends, with the boy. He had wanted to show off to his family, that he had gained Harry Potter's friendship. He had pictured that the entire wizarding world would be as green with envy as the Slytherin house colors.

With the adoption, it was like he completely disappeared in their minds and that had enraged him beyond reason.

Draco leaned against the door, breathing heavily. Hearing that soft, forlorn voice made him remember all those times he had thought about how wonderful it'd be Harry Potter's best friend. It reminded him just how badly he had wanted that for himself. And it was obvious that Harry wanted it too, was even suggesting a stronger bond by being brothers.

Recalling those memories, Draco decided that maybe... it was okay to share his family, if he was getting a brother.

Outside, Harry was beginning to think that he had not gotten through to Draco. He was probably in the room, snickering to himself about how pathetic Harry was. He could almost hear the taunting now._ Oh, poor little orphan, no one loves you, isn't that right?_

The door opened. Draco stood there, his arms crossed but his eyes weren't narrowed in disgust or anger. Instead there was a small pout on his lips as he gestured Harry to enter his rooms.

* * *

Narcissa knocked on Draco's door.

"Draco, dear, your friends are here." She opened the door. She frowned, seeing the mess and broken bits of toys and items strewn all over the floor. It wasn't often that Draco had those horrible tantrums, but it had been a while since his last one. Lucius needed to seriously talk with their son. When he was younger, they often let it slide but he was becoming a young wizard and needed to start acting like one.

Narcissa called for Minny, who was Draco's elf nanny, similar to Dibby. She appeared with a soft pop behind Narcissa and immediately set to work, being used to Draco's tantrums.

Seeing a large lump on the bed, Narcissa made her way and pulled the sheet back. Eyes widening, Narcissa stared at surprise at the two boys, sleeping innocently in the big bed.

"Minny!" Narcissa ordered urgently. "Get the camera quickly!" Minny squeaked and popped away.

The scene before her was the most precious thing she had ever seen. Draco was sprawled on his back, his small mouth slightly open as he snored peacefully. Harry's small form was curled up against his side, his hands tucked under his chin in loose fists.

Narcissa was not blind to what had been going on between Harry and her son. She had often tried to find out what was causing Draco to behave that way since she knew that he had always wanted to meet Harry. Lucius had attributed his behavior to jealously and had advised her to let them work it out. The worst that could've happened, her husband predicted, would have been the formation of rivalry between them and that was not always a bad thing since it drove one to develop ambition.

Narcissa was relieved to see that they had managed to work it out on their own after all. She wasn't even upset over Draco's tantrum if this was the result.

Minny returned with the camera and quickly snapped a photo of the two children. Narcissa instructed her to get it developed right away and to tell the other house elves to finish cleaning the mess.

Minny once again popped away with the camera.

Narcissa took another moment, lingering over the adorable scene before she gently shook Draco awake. He blinked sleepy gray eyes at her, "Mother?"

"Darling, Pansy and the rest are here to play." Narcissa smiled sweetly. "I assume all things are right now with Harry?"

Draco glanced down at the still sleeping boy and grinned up at her. "Yes, mother. Harry and I talked about it. And then we talked about other things. And then we played dragon and I guess... we took a nap."

"That's wonderful dear," his mother said. "Well, you have guests, don't keep them waiting. Why not introduce them to Harry?"

"Okay. Can we fly around, Mother?" Draco asked eagerly. "I don't think Harry's ever flown before or at least that's what he told me when he saw the snitch Father gave me."

With permission, Draco shook Harry awake and got them both ready to meet his friends.

Outside in the gardens, Draco introduced Harry to his friends who he had known since he was a toddler. The group consisted of Pansy Parkinson, her friend Milicent Bullstrode, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle.

Harry was bombarded with questions, ranging from how the muggle world was, his abusive relatives, congratulations on the adoption, and most of all, his famous scar. Pansy had particularly latched onto his arm as soon as she had seen it. He had been uncomfortable with all the attention and Draco had noticed. He pried the girl off, demanding that she stop assaulting his "brother." Harry's face had lit up with a huge smile at the term and nothing, for the rest of that day, could ruin his mood. Not even when Vincent accidentally turned his hair a bright pink with his practice wand.

Now that Draco and he got along, quite well actually for they had many things in common, living at Malfoy Manor was like living in a dream. They had become close to inseparable. Narcissa was glad to see it, as was Lucius, though they had different reasons. Narcissa was glad her boys were getting along, while Lucius saw the brotherly relationship as another hold over the boy, binding him closer to the Malfoy name.

Before that week, Harry had been unsure of his place in the Malfoy family. At night, he had often wondered if he had made a mistake. He had thought of his options. The situation was not permanent yet so if it really didn't work out, he could always return to the orphanage (he shuddered at this thought) or try the Weasleys. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were rather friendly... although he could never compare them to the Malfoys.

The official from the orphanage, a Mr. Wright, was due to visit for a checkup the next day after their truce. The orphanage was completely muggle based but the wizarding government had stepped in, altered their minds to believe that Mr. Wright, who was something similar to a social worker in their world, would take over the responsibility on checking up on Mr. Potter.

Lucius Malfoy was very much aware of Wright's allegiance to Dumbledore. He had been successful in acquiring the guardian rights over the Weasleys but Dumbledore still managed to stick his nose in some way or the other. He had noticed Narcissa's protective instincts over the boy and how Harry looked to her as a mother figure. He had relied on that to keep the boy with them. Now that Draco assumed the role of older brother, Lucius was convinced that nothing would sway Harry Potter away from their home. Not even meddling old wizards with a penchant for manipulation.

He was proven correct as he heard from his lovely wife later that evening. She spoke of how Harry had been rather cheerful when meeting Mr. Wright and how brief that meeting had been. Mr. Wright had asked many questions, how the Malfoys were treating him, if there were any problems, etc... The boy had answered honestly, confiding that the Malfoys were his dreams come true. That yes, there had been problems before but they were resolved and things were better than ever.

Narcissa hadn't missed the concealed frown and the subtle questions regarding if the boy still wanted to try visiting the Weasleys. Narcissa had given a fake smile but reminded Harry of the trip they had planned to go on that week. Harry had declined the invitation to see the Weasleys before asking if he had any other questions, he had to meet Draco outside for a flying lesson. Mr. Wright allowed the boy to go and with a dark expression, took his leave.

Harry was the happiest he had ever been, with Draco constantly by his side. He never realized how much he was missing by never being able to have a companion that was his age. Often, at night, one of the boys would often slip into the other's room for a sleepover. With their animosity gone it was as though they had been siblings since the beginning.

Draco had even confided to him that he had often daydreamed about being Harry's best friend. It had given Harry a warm feeling inside his chest and he had childishly declared that they were best friends and above else, brothers.

Soon enough, due to Draco's encouragement and endless talking, Harry caught up to wizarding culture and what was expected of him within a couple of months. He then joined Draco in his morning lessons with his tutor. As a pair, they quickly overcame many of the teachings they learned.

Harry never did forget about his one encounter with the ghost. He had learned that they were not uncommon, even Hogwarts had a set of ghostly visitors that roamed the halls. It was unusual, though, in the Malfoy Manor, as many of the relatives were put to peace and those that hadn't did not make an appearance.

The initial year that Harry spent with the Malfoys was vastly different from his previous ones.

Last year, he had been an unwanted boy, stumbling about from chore to chore in his cousin's dirty hand me downs. He had been treated like a slave, beaten whenever the mood struck his Uncle, and starved for sport. Now, he had a loving mother in Narcissa, and a brother in Draco. Even his birthday, which had passed uncelebrated the previous year, was an explosive event with many children from select pureblood families attending. They even had a tamed dragon rented for flights around the estate. He and Draco had been given practice wands that year also, though it was kept out of their reach until they learned enough theory from the tutor.

At night, Harry sometimes had mysterious dreams of a dark haired man with startling gray eyes in a library similar to where he and Draco met their tutor. In these dreams, he would sit in one of the chairs with the man unaware of his presence as he cast about spells that flew from his wand in mesmerizing swirls of color and light. He would awaken groggy the next morning not remembering anything other than the beautiful lights he had seen.

The Malfoys were part of a social circle that often threw balls and parties, to show off their wealth and status. As part of that society, the Malfoys kept up their appearance by constantly being in fashion as decreed by Mrs. Malfoy. Trips to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade were not uncommon.

In one of their many trips to Diagon Alley, Narcissa had went to Twilfitt and Tatting's to order more summer oriented dress robes for an upcoming occasion, dragging Draco with her. Harry was fortunately spared as he had needed a whole set of wardrobe when he first came to stay with them.

Harry found himself in front of Eeylop's Owl Emporium with a nervous house elf chaperoning him. Dibby, his elf nanny, had taken ill with a mysterious sickness that he had never heard of. When Narcissa had found out, she had sent Dibby away until she got well. In her place, stood her son Dobby, being a kitchen elf had never left the confines of Malfoy Manor. He was different from his mother in that he often stared in awe at Harry and called him "Mr. Potter, sir!" instead of Master Harry as the other house elves had. He was unused to being outside the kitchen and often watched the surroundings more than he did Harry.

Harry had been admiring a beautiful snowy owl, just recently trained in delivering mail. She looked at Harry with big yellow eyes and Harry fell in love with the bird. She looked so pure but lonely, sitting in the cage apart from the other animals.

"Isn't she lovely?" a voice said behind him. Harry turned to see an old wizard dressed in bright orange robes which matched his just as bright orange cap. There were dancing golden hippogriffs on the rim of his robes. Surprised, Harry briefly speculated where such ostentatious robes were made or sold. The wizard was tall, with long silver hair and a long silver beard. He also had bright blue eyes which twinkled at Harry from behind half-moon spectacles. He had a presence about him that easily put Harry in a state of relaxation though that was odd since the wizard was a stranger.

Dobby squeaked as he looked at the wizard, his eyes becoming even larger than normal.

Not to be rude, he replied, "Yes, she's very beautiful."

"My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," the wizard introduced himself, holding out his hand. "I am the headmaster of Hogwarts."

Hogwarts! Harry turned to look at him, excited. He shook his hand. "I'm Harry James Potter, sir."

Dumbledore's smile only grew wider. "Of course you are, my boy!"

The wizard talked about how the professors were excited and waiting for his arrival in Hogwarts. Unexpectedly, he informed Harry that he had also known his parents. Harry grinned at the thought of an awkward teenage Lucius Malfoy.

"Were you headmaster when Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were attending?" he asked, curious. He couldn't imagine his guardians as anything but what they were now. Even the same image of a younger Lucius Malfoy glared at him from his mind as though offended.

Dumbledore paused, his eyes while still twinkling seemed a bit dimmer as he regarded Harry over the rim of his glasses. "Ah... Narcissa and Lucius. Yes, I was. They attended the same time your real parents were there."

Harry, who had gotten used to subliminal messages, easily caught the implications. He had never really thought much about the Potters ever since he came to stay with the Malfoys.

He also didn't appreciate the insinuation that the Malfoys weren't his family. "Mr. Dumbledore, the Malfoys are as true of a family to me as the Potters were. They raised me more than the Dursleys ever did."

"I didn't mean to offend you, my boy." Dumbledore spread his hands as though to show acquiescence. "But knowing where you come from is very important indeed. One must never forget your roots." Here, he stared at Harry, trying to provoke mindless agreement with his statement. But Harry was a clever boy, and there was something about Dumbledore that just rubbed him the wrong way despite how at ease he was in the wizard's company.

"It's funny you should mention that, sir." Harry tried to imitate his foster father's sophisticated drawl as he stared at the snowy owl. He glanced at him in the corner of his eye. "The Potters were originally part of the dark pureblood society, same as the Malfoys, before the war with Lord Grindelwald."

Dumbledore continued to smile at him, with his twinkling blue eyes but the mood around them had turned serious.

"The Potters were good people, Harry. They loved you very much," Dumbledore told him. "I'm sure you know their story. I find it strange that you chose to stay with the Malfoys but it is, and always will be, your choice."

Looking at their situation, Harry realized that they were both dancing around each other with their words. Each wizard was trying to convince the other of their reasons while being subtle. It was a game he did not have much practice in though he regularly saw Lucius and Narcissa engaged in it. This was different though, amongst family it was often a sport, but with this man, it could be very dangerous.

He lacked the experienced that was necessary in tangling with the headmaster.

He decided that he had enough of dancing around this man. Mr. Malfoy said that the headmaster had previously been in Gryffindor but was well versed in Slytherin tactics. _Let's try brute honesty._

"I don't like it when people insult my family, sir," Harry replied flatly. Dumbledore did not betray a reaction other than the slight widening of his eyes... for only a fraction of a moment and they were their normal brilliant blue.

"I meant no offense," Dumbledore repeated, sounding aggrieved at the thought. _He wants to keep playing games. He doesn't believe me to be a threat... and why should he when I can't even hold my ground._

"Dumbledore," came Mrs. Malfoy's clear voice. Coming from the opposite store, Narcissa walked steadily over to them with Draco and Minny following behind her. Her eyes glanced between Harry and the wizard, taking in Harry's uncomfortable stance. "I'm sorry to interrupt but we must get going."

Without any further comment, Narcissa inclined her head in respect towards the older wizard. She did not hurry or show animosity but simply took hold of Harry's hand and led him away. Draco had glared at the older wizard but quickly averted his eyes when he received a warning spell from his mother. Narcissa seldom used such things. They were useful in that it quickly showed discouragement, in the form of a ghostly pinch on the arm when a child did something wrong.

Once they were nearing the apparition point, Draco started interrogating Harry about the wizard. Narcissa hushed her son, telling them that they'd talk when they reached the manor.

Once inside, Narcissa led them both to a small room often used for entertaining small groups of people. As they waited for tea and biscuits, Narcissa asked Harry what Dumbledore wanted from him.

Harry shrugged and relayed the conversation including his discomfort with the man when he had started talking about their family.

Draco's face grew dark in indignation. He scowled, "Wasn't he the one that headed the investigation against father?" he demanded.

"It isn't official but yes, many of us believed that he gave much evidence against your father."

Harry frowned at this. Although he and Lucius did not have a close relationship, he was still the head of the family. To threaten the head was to threaten the entire family. This Dumbledore wizard was not looking good to him.

"I'm sure that he never expected that Harry would come into our care." Narcissa admitted. She turned to Harry, concern in her gray eyes. "You must take care around that man." She turned to Draco. "Both of you."

In the solemn silence, both boys nodded in understanding.

"Now, we must discuss something of importance." Narcissa was not sure if she should reveal this information to Harry but if Dumbledore himself had shown interest in her boy, it could only mean one thing. He would try even harder to bring Harry by his side by any means. That was not acceptable.

So she told him about his parents and their involvement in the previous war. Harry had already accepted that the Malfoys had been on a different side than his parents.

Having been immersed in the dark pureblood society had opened his eyes to a whole other world and he had come to cherish the very culture that was slowly being lost to muggles and muggleborns.

He had adopted Draco's views and therefore Lucius', about pureblood supremacy. His expression had fallen when he considered that even magical children could be denied of the heritage that he had come to embrace while living with the Malfoys.

When Draco talked about the Dark Lord, Harry saw him as a champion of their side, fighting to restore their declining culture and bloodlines. Lucius had been pleased to hear that Harry had taken such an interest in the history of the Dark Lord.

One thing he hadn't like though was the many deaths that their side had caused. Narcissa had explained as best as she was able, considering Draco had asked her the same thing once upon a time.

She told him, as she told Draco, "There is no good or evil in war. Each side fights for victory, for their beliefs. Would you not give your life to preserve who you are?" Understanding filled those green orbs.

Yes, it was essential to make sure Harry was well informed. Otherwise, he could be caught unaware and be made vulnerable enough to be pulled away from them. He was still a young child, not tied to them by blood but other means. Narcissa had to consider all threats to her family, and Harry, who had become integrated in their home, was now essential.

Harry's countenance became expressionless. Narcissa had just dropped the bomb that could possibly break all the ties Harry made to their world. "Lord Voldemort killed your biological parents." What she kept unsaid but he surely understood was that the Malfoys had supported Voldemort and his cause.

The Malfoys had been careful with Harry. They had done their own form of sheltering the boy from the realities of his past. He had contact with many families but they were limited in that the families had been chosen by the Malfoys and were often current or past Voldemort supports. The people Harry had met were also smart and intelligent and therefore knew it was better to be on the good side of the Boy-Who-Lived than show contempt for a wizard that may be dead or worse. No one had dared to tell little Harry about the murder of his biological parents which was caused by the one they followed.

Harry had bowed his head, becoming still as her words washed over him. For that moment, Harry had closed his eyes, not wanting to think of all the possibilities but still they pushed their way into his mind. He could've had parents... He had needlessly suffered at the hands of the Dursleys. Lord Voldemort... the wizard he had so admired was the sole cause of that suffering.

And yet, he was conflicted because if things hadn't turned out the way they had, what kind of life would he have had?

Draco looked in distress between Harry and Narcissa. Hesitatingly, Draco grasped his shoulder, pulling the other boy into a tight hug. "We're your family, Harry!" Harry's eyes flew open at the contact.

He shot a pleading look at his mother, wanting her support to keep Harry with them. But Narcissa stayed seated in her chair. As much as she would have preferred to comfort him and persuade him that everything had been done for the best, she had to let him make this choice. She would lose him completely if she pushed and she understood that very well.

Harry relaxed against Draco, staring at Narcissa. Draco was right.

There could be many what ifs, but the reality is that no matter where he had come from, they were his family now. To his seven year old mind, he didn't want to lose Narcissa, or Draco, or even Lucius. He wanted to hold onto them.

The lack of response from Harry had started to alarm Draco. He whisper urgently to Harry, his brother, his best friend. "Just earlier today, you defended our family against that meddling git. You would give up on us so easily?" Harry's arms came up to hug the boy.

"I understand." Harry told them. His green eyes looked to Narcissa, who had sat so very still that she looked to be made of glass. She really did look like a porcelain doll wrapped in white robes with her pale skin, blond hair and gray eyes. He realized that just like glass, under her cool exterior, she could've broken just as easily.

Relieved, Narcissa inclined her head in acknowledgment and gratitude.

The next day, as Harry awoke from another one of those strange dreams he had, he heard the tapping of a beak against his window. He found it odd because he had never received owl post since the wards directed all post to be delivered to Lucius' study.

In his silk pajamas, Harry opened the window and stepped back as a beautiful owl landed on top of a nearby perch made just for incoming owls. It had never been used while Harry lived there but it was useful. Harry recognized her as the owl from the emporium and was momentarily saddened that she had been so swiftly purchased before congratulating her on finding a master.

The owl stuck her leg out, where a piece of parchment was tied. He opened the letter.

_Harry,_

_I remember seeing you admiring her in Diagon Ally and she seemed to be rather attached to you also. Please accept this gift as my apology for offending you and your family._

_We are not given the choice of who our parents are, but we can choose our family._

_In sincere remorse,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

He looked in surprise and joy at the snowy owl that had preened her feathers while Harry read the letter. Cautiously, Harry reached up a hand and stroked her beautiful white feathers.

The bird looked at him with her intelligent golden eyes. If Harry hadn't known any better, he could've sworn that the owl was judging him. Well if she was, apparently he was approved as her master because she gave a soft hoot.

The door opened and Draco came in, pausing as he saw Harry and the bird. "Wow. Where'd she come from?"

"From Dumbledore," Harry replied. Draco frowned and then shrugged.

"What'd you name her?" he asked.

"I thought you'd probably want me to send her back, seeing as she's from Dumbledore." Harry wondered, his fingers still stroking the owl's feathers.

Draco shrugged again before jumping on Harry's bed, bouncing once, twice, before settling into the comfortable blankets. "Well. If he wants to try for bribery, let him. It won't get him anywhere though." He smirked at Harry.

The other boy smiled and admitted that yes, bribery would not fix the gap between them, not at all.

Soon, they tried to come up with a name for the snowy owl. Draco had suggested something regal sounding like Contessa. After several tries of calling the bird "Contessa" and being ignored, the boys started throwing out random names.

"Snowy!" Nothing.

"Helga!" Nope.

"Hedwig!" Draco called. Finally the bird looked up and gave a contented hoot.

"Hedwig? What kind of name is that?" Harry questioned Draco.

"Er. I read it in Hogwarts, A History," he admitted. Harry chuckled at him and Draco gave him an annoyed glance. "We'll be going there in a couple years; I don't want to look like a tourist like you!"

Harry continued to be amused but agreed that he'd read the book sooner or later.

Another chapter of Harry's life became complete. Harry felt that he would've fallen victim to Dumbledore's schemes had it not been for Narcissa and Draco standing by his side. But he had them now, and Dumbledore, if he wanted to involve himself in Harry's life, had to deal with that.

The days continued and turned into weeks, and then into months. He started to notice that Draco often disappeared in the afternoons. He confronted him about it when the curiosity became too much for him. He had been horrified when he had blurted out the question.

Draco had grinned and indulged him, saying that he was taking extra classes to get ready for Hogwarts. He had wanted Harry to join him, but their father, for unknown reasons, had declined saying he wasn't ready.

Harry had felt crushed. He didn't understand why Lucius would hold him back like this, not when the man had often told Harry that he was a part of their family.

Unless... Harry's eyes narrowed. Unless Lucius only said those things to make him more comfortable. It was one thing to say something, but to follow through on it was a different matter. He had gone to Mrs. Malfoy, asking her if Lucius was displeased with him.

She had stacks of parchment piled onto her usually neat desk. They were all invitations to be sent out for Draco's upcoming eighth birthday. Even while busy, she gave Harry a considerable amount of time to assure him that to the best of her knowledge, he had not displeased the head of the family. She even advised him about talking with Lucius, the best time to do so being after dinner.

And he did. After dinner, he found himself in Lucius' study where he had sat two years ago, ignorant about the world and magic.

That was it. Just as he sat in that couch, he realized that the last time they had talked here, Lucius had made it clear that he was not a pureblood. Was Lucius ashamed of having a half-blood in his family?

Before he had much time to think of it, Lucius entered the room, placing his cane on top of his desk before joining Harry in front of the fireplace.

"Well?" he drawled after the silence continued for several minutes.

"I... I want to know why Draco's taking extra lessons and I'm not," Harry asked. Lucius appraised him before replying. "Draco is my son, my blood. When he attends Hogwarts, I want him to be well prepared."

It somewhat hurt Harry to hear that. That he was still an outcast in the Malfoy family despite being treated otherwise. It was all too much, for Harry who had often tried to gain the elder Malfoy's affections, and failing that, at least his respect or attention. He wanted... He wanted to be considered his son too and he wanted the chance to prove himself. Not that he'd be a better son than Draco, definitely not, because Draco would always hold that position. But he wanted to be worthy enough to be considered a Malfoy, not just in name but in spirit if not blood.

"I want to make you proud too!" Harry exclaimed passionately. He gazed up at Lucius, earnest and sincere. He was full of emotion that had been building up ever since they had talked two years ago, in this very same place.

At his outburst, Lucius surveyed him with a critical eye. All this time Lucius had still regarded the boy as a possible enemy, one that could benefit him, but an enemy nonetheless. He had also treated him with polite gestures, as though he were a permanent guest in his home. He had left the fawning and parental duties with Narcissa and he believed she fulfilled them well.

With a politician's eye, he took in all the little details of his charge. His stiff form, his white knuckles, firm mouth set in a determined line, and most importantly, his clear emerald eyes narrowed in consternation.

He was an intelligent boy. Truthfully, if Lucius was to be honest, he was smarter than Draco. He contributed this to the fact that being denied knowledge with the Dursleys had inspired a hunger for it. Draco, on the other hand, had always had whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He had lacked for nothing and was, by himself, idle and indolent as only a spoiled child could be. The tutors had literally sang their praises of Harry's quick mind while commenting that Draco had only recently shown an increased drive to do better when Harry was around.

They were not even ten yet. Lucius' father had often said that was necessary to teach boys of life at an early age. The first time Lucius had heard it was shortly before his father had cast an avada kedavra at his favorite owl when he had done something against his father's wishes. He didn't even remember what he had done then, but the lesson had been learned.

After Lucius had married, his father had taken him aside and while he never apologized for his harsh teachings, he explained that young boys needed to be molded to survive. Otherwise, he'd get trampled over and become nothing. A Malfoy was never nothing.

Lucius' mind whirled as new thoughts sprung up from his assessment of the boy, for that was all he was after all: a boy. A powerful boy seeking approval.

"I know... I know, I can never be your son!" Harry continued, tears starting to form. "I'm not a pureblood! And I'm not of your blood! But I... I just..." he trailed off, the tears that he had previously held back rolled down his cheeks. He wiped at them furiously with the sleeves of his robe.

Lucius made a decision as he recalled his beautiful wife, her head bowed, as she secretly smiled at him while talking of Harry. _Oh my dear lovely wife, my intelligent wondrous wife. How right you were._

Lucius reached out to the boy, tilting his face upwards so he could clearly see into his eyes. Taking out a handkerchief, he cleaned the boy's face of tears, gently but firmly.

"Harry." He locked his gaze with the boy's. Like this... He could see that he was still so young and very much in need of guidance. Guidance that Lucius believed only he could provide. "Despite all the talk of pureblood superiority, there is one thing, just one, that is above all the rest." Here he leaned closer as though to reveal a very important secret. He did enjoy his flair for dramatics.

"Power." He watched Harry's reaction, a light of understanding flashing through his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, surveying the impact of his words. "You have enough raw power," he drawled, "but no way to control it. Yet."

The boy continued to stare up at him, no longer crying, and very curious. "Is that what Draco is doing, sir?"

"In a way," Lucius replied. He had no intention of revealing that not only was Draco practicing basic spells, but also studying dark arts theory. He was still much too young to practice those particular spells, but a good understanding of theory would help him in the long run.

"I want to learn too!" Harry said sternly. The boy seemed to be full of demands with no way to repay any favors that Lucius was willing to bestow upon him. Lucius accepted this for he had a good memory when it came to debts and favors.

"You would have a lot to catch up to," Lucius told him. His answer was not a yes, but if the boy was smart, he would realize that more importantly, Lucius' answer was not a no. It was a simple statement that implied that Harry would not be able to do as he wished, and depending on his answer, it would determine the path Lucius would have to take to further his new goal.

Could a Potter, bred as a true Gryffindor as his parents had been, be conditioned into a Slytherin?

"I'll catch up!" Harry promised resolutely. The determination in the boy was admirable, Lucius admitted in the secrecy of his mind. He wondered how deep Harry's determination ran. But he knew that he could not push the boy, not now when he seemed so desperate. Besides, the boy's answer was more than satisfactory. Lucius knew that the boy didn't understand all the underlying meanings to what he had just said nor what it revealed about him. It strengthened the conviction that the boy housed inside himself.

Lucius had not lied when he told the boy the importance of power. But he did leave out the fact that power was futile if not wielded correctly, melded with purpose and ambition. Powerful wizards did not lie idly as the world turned. _No, they do not. They become something much, much more than they originally were._ Thoughts of a youthful Tom Riddle flashed through his mind.

Harry Potter had just become a more interesting specimen than Lucius had previously thought. It was like stumbling over a tree root only to stare up at the yggdrasil tree.

"I will keep you to that promise," Lucius acknowledged. He picked up his quill to write a short missive to Draco's tutor, a seasoned and trustworthy Dark Arts practitioner. Once sealed with the stamp of the Malfoy crest, he held the letter to Harry. "This is your future, boy. I am giving you a chance. If you prove that my investment in you was made in error then these lessons will cease. Do you understand?"

Harry's eyes darted from the letter to Lucius in crystal clear comprehension. "Yes sir."

Lucius nodded in approval, but he had one last lesson to impart before their little tête-à-tête was concluded.

Harry reached out to take the letter. Before letting go, Lucius told Harry, "The Malfoy name is one of prestige, as is the Potter name. You were lucky to be born into one and taken into the other. A Malfoy is more than a name. It is the way one talks, one acts, it is a way of life. The first lesson I will teach you, Harry, is that Malfoys do not wear their heart upon their sleeve as you have clearly been doing."

Here, he had given the boy the very chance that he had dreamed of but never hoped for: a chance to claim the Malfoy name as his own with the head's blessing.

He released the letter, letting the boy take it firmly in his hand. The very same words that Lucius' father had told him had the same effect on Harry as it did on a toddler version of Lucius. He watched as the boy straightened his back, the dignity of the Malfoy name settling upon his young shoulders.

In a voice that was still lacked the maturity that adolescence brought but contained strength, Harry replied saying, "I understand, sir. Thank you for giving me this chance. I'll send the letter right away."

The boy left with an eager bounce in his step but otherwise composed.

Lucius was beyond satisfied. When he first heard of the boy's abusive relatives, he had smugly thought to himself that the boy had deserved it for he was the cause of the Dark Lord's demise. When he received an urgent call from the Wizengamot, he had seen a method to further glorify the name of Malfoy in the form of Harry Potter. At first sight, the boy was nothing special despite his raw power.

Now, though, Lucius evaluated the many possibilities of what this Harry could become. Taking out a set of documents, many of which were already stamped with the approval of the ministry of magic, Lucius signed his name with a flourish and agreed to the conditions there with his blood. He smirked as the parchment glowed blue for a moment.

Narcissa had been pushing this for a year now. She would be delighted when he told her that the blood ceremony would come to pass after all.

* * *

"My serpent, Lucius is correct but it does not mean that you have to become an emotionless zombie."

Harry drowsily looked up at her. "What does it mean then?"

The very first lesson that her husband had taught young Harry had already started to take a hold. Narcissa viewed this with a sad but approving smile.

Like a little child, Harry had quickly become accustomed to her presence as his mother figure, often reaching out with eager hands for her own to hold, listening for her quiet words of approval, and savoring her embrace. Narcissa allowed these sentimentalities for she understood that once a child became conscious of their actions, they would cease.

Even with this change, Narcissa was not yet ready to completely relinquish her hold over Harry's affections. She sat on a conjured chair next to his bed and gently ran her fingers through Harry's soft raven hair. She still remembered the first time she had seen it, wild and flying about as though it was light as a feather. Now, through various potions used in his bath, it lay obedient and still so soft.

She smiled, seeing that Harry had not objected to her token of affection.

He reminded her so much of her Draco, still her little dragon although he no longer wished to be addressed with that pet name. She can still remember the first time he had squirmed out of her embrace, no longer the same child that hid behind her skirts. From that day, she had conveyed her affection for her son through subtler means.

She smiled down at him sweetly. "Malfoys do not wear their hearts upon their sleeve," she echoed her husband, "but carry it in the deepest parts of their soul, only recognizable in their acts of devotion, passion, and fidelity. He was correct in telling you this and now you understand, my little serpent."

She leaned over and placed a kiss upon his forehead before smoothing his hair back down. "Goodnight." At the doorway, she looked at his sleeping face.

Lucius had finally understood the importance that young Harry Potter was. Knowing her husband as only she was capable of, Narcissa could see the beginning of a long road in front of Harry. It was littered with obstacles and tests and she knew some of those would be placed there by her own husband.

Watching his sleeping form for just a bit longer, Narcissa marveled at humans' survival instincts which clearly drove Harry to form a deep attachment with her though subconsciously.

Narcissa found, as she turned away, that she did not mind at all. Sometime between meeting the messy haired orphan and now, her heart had been captured surely but completely. There were those that did not know or understand, but a mother's love was a driving power in and of itself. Another fact that even less people knew about was that a Black's loyalty was also a similar power but contained a ferocity that went beyond that of a mother dragon protecting her eggs. A Black was capable of rending those that harmed their loved ones to shreds either in society, body, and mind with not an ounce of remorse.

With a quiet nox, she left the room and the boy to his dreams of the future as a Malfoy.


	4. Truly Now

AN: Thank you for all the reviews! I'm really glad people like the story. I felt like I was taking too long in this part of Harry's life but now it's over with so yay I also want to mention several things: The title of this story I took from a poem by John Donne, which I felt is very fitting for the plot. This story was also inspired by FirePheonix8's story The Black Heir and Vindico Atrum (which I love :D) so give those a shot if you haven't already. This story though will take a different turn than the ones mentioned. And in answer to My Solitude, I agree that those features define him the most so yes, he won't change much in appearence, as you'll find out during the chapter.

Once again, thank you to everyone that reviewed!

* * *

Chapter 4: Truly Now

He was engulfed in darkness; the blindfold around his eyes ensured that. It was just an illusion made especially for him. He knew that if he were to take it off, there would be five points of light at choice areas of the room.

Without his eyesight, he became hypersensitive to his surroundings. He could feel the rough stone rubbing harshly against his bare knees. He wasn't allowed to relax, he had to remain upright despite the burn he could feel in his thighs. Sweat rolled down his neck. Voices whispered softly the words of an ancient spell, once commonly used, but had fallen forgotten and abandoned from the minds of average wizards.

His head was bowed forward; sweat rolling down his face like tears. His bangs were damp and clinging to his face. He could feel the movement of his chest as he took in deep relaxing breathes, that smelled of dust and earth.

Like this, he was vulnerable to whatever was out there. But he had no reason to fear. This was what he wanted, what he had hope for since he first looked into Narcissa's cool gray eyes. Trustingly he gave himself over to whatever came.

Quiet. The murmurings that had faded to the background had fallen away, leaving behind a quiet only disturbed by the sounds of birds, bugs, and the rustling of the wind. The echo of footsteps as someone approached him. His heart sped up in anticipation.

Harshly, he felt that person grab his hair before roughly yanking his head back to bear his throat, a pale vulnerable column of muscle and life sustaining blood. He tensed as he felt the razor sharp edge of a dagger pressing very slightly into his skin but was otherwise still.

If he moved even just a little, all that he would know would vanish.

* * *

With smooth graceful strokes, Narcissa composed a reply to the long lost black sheep of the family. She could hear her husband's footsteps echoing in the hall as he made his way to their rooms. Regardless, her beautiful handwriting continued its path across the parchment. She did not scramble to finish her letter, nor did she put it away to complete another day. After all, she had no reason to hide from her husband.

_My Dear Severus Snape,_

_Imagine my surprise when I received a letter from your hand. Do not fret, it was a pleasant surprise, my friend. It has been a long time since we last talked. Indeed, you have wandered long and far from your family's reach, but we have not forgotten, as I'm sure you have not. Draco is not yet grown and he still has much to learn. He does not remember your name, Severus, but he still loves to play with the miniature lab you saved for him when he was just a newborn. This leads me to believe that despite being a stranger, he still remembers you though he no longer asks for your presence. Do you feel that it's time to rectify this situation? Lucius and I would not be adverse to such a request, if it ever came our way. Draco has a new friend that I'm sure has piqued your interest. Would you not like to also meet your godson's brother? _

_Yours,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

Her husband kissed her neck as he leaned down to read the words on her letter. She felt her lips pull up into a smirk as she set the quill down.

* * *

It had been several years since Severus had been welcome in Malfoy Manor.

After the war, his status as a spy was released and although Lucius had been acquitted of any accused crimes, there had still been tension between them. Severus did not expect the weekly invitations that used to come his way and they never did until he had sent a letter, convinced by Dumbledore that it was of grave importance. The first few letters he had sent to either Lucius or Narcissa had not received a good reception. However, perseverance and persistence had paved a way to reach his past friends and now, here he was, in the one place where he hadn't ever wanted to come back. The last time he had visited, little Draco Malfoy had just begun to walk.

Now he was a young boy. If Severus had been a Hufflepuff, he would've felt something akin to regret for having missed so much of his godson's life. But what's done is done, and no amount of time turners would make up for the chances he had missed. If he had wanted to coddle the boy when he was young (which he hadn't), the time for such things had already passed. He couldn't greet him as a family member nor as a professor since he barely recognized him if at all. His only option was to approach him as the heir apparent of an aristocratic family.

He approached the boy with the same respect as he did Dumbledore, with his back straight, hand extending forward as he formally introduced himself. Lucius stood behind the boy, wary and distrustful though it never showed through the friendly mask he currently wore. However, Severus had years to study that face and his cool blue eyes betrayed his distrust in his once friend. Such was the necessity of being a spy. To not notice the subtle moods in the room, or reactions and unpronounced allegiances, would have surely had him killed, if not to the Dark Lord then to the politics within the Death Eaters. Even now, ten years after the war his instincts still remained honed sharp as a dagger. It still pricked his mind into awareness of people and his surroundings. It was skill developed during hard times but cherished nonetheless.

Beside him stood his wife, Narcissa, who had arranged the whole event. And next to her, stood a dark haired child that looked very much out of place among the fair featured Malfoys.

"Severus," Narcissa presented the boy at her side, moving him forward so that he stood in front of her. He briefly noted that the way her hands remained on the boy's shoulders was both a warning and proclamation to him. "This is Harry Potter, as I'm sure you know." At her words, Harry had given his foster mother an inquiring glance before he offered his hand to the Potions Master in respect, an exact replica of his formal greeting and just as smooth and practiced. Severus concealed a sneer as he politely accepted the small hand before releasing it.

Harry Potter. It couldn't have been anyone else. Even without the famous curse scar displayed in proud proclamation on his forehead, which he attributed to either Narcissa or Lucius' astute thinking, he would not have mistaken the boy for anyone but James and Lily's child.

His eyes took in the boy's features. He really was a blend of James and Lily Potter, so many similarities but also differences from each parent. Like that unmistakable hair of his that was clearly inherited from his father. It came to the point that if Severus focused on a particular trait, he could almost see James Potter standing in front of him, mocking and still taunting him from his cold grave. It was almost enough to make his blood boil and his unshakable control over his resentment become thin and frayed. Almost. But Lily Evan's eyes flashed at him from the boy's face, the same exact shade with alien emotions in them. Seeing such a familiar and loved featured on Jame's Potter face was like a shock to his system. Clearly, he did not know this boy but he could not stop the flood of resentment and rage he felt at see him. So he let those emotions take its course, washing over him but not sweeping him away.

The differences in him that came from neither James nor Lily were obviously a result from his foster family. His dark inky black hair, if it had been left to the laws of nature, would have been as wild as James Potter's. Instead, it must have been subjected to various cosmetic charms to make it fall so tamely about his face. He stood straight, his hands idle by his side unlike the James he knew who had never been able to stand still, always fidgeting, planning something devious and juvenile.

The boy's emerald green eyes surveyed him, eerily reminding Severus of the charming Tom Riddle that had convinced him to join the Death Eaters before revealing himself as the devil that stole their souls.

The image of Tom Riddle dissipated as the boy looked away.

At an early age of ten, Harry Potter looked like a more sophisticated version of James Potter if it weren't for those green eyes of his.

That day, Severus did not get much progress in getting close to either Draco or Harry. Draco was his personal goal while Harry was Dumbledore's mission to him. He had held his tongue when the headmaster had conspired and planned to bring Harry Potter to his side while leaving Draco with the influences of his parents. Dumbledore had always played favorites, he knew that very well. He believed Harry was not too far gone yet and could still be salvaged.

He needed to get close to Potter but Lucius still continued to watch him too closely. He needed another way.

It came in the form of Draco Malfoy, as he ran to him with eager eyes. The Potter boy trailed behind him, carrying a book that Severus recognized as "Charming Yourself with Charms!" It was a book that he'd expect a third year to be reading.

"Master Snape!" his godson exclaimed, more relaxed and familiar with his godfather. "Mother said you're brilliant at potions and that you have a mastery in it! Do you think you can tutor me? I swear I won't waste your time!"

Severus inwardly winced at the thought of his few leisure hours being spent on the whims of a spoiled nine year old. But Draco had shown an aptitude for potions and talent nurtured properly would become magnificent matured. That and it would further ease Severus into the Malfoys good graces.

Better yet... He calculated, wondering if this was the way he had been searching for. Potter will surely join his brother in some of these lessons. It was a win-win situation regardless of what happened.

The situation had not turned out the way he had expected.

Draco, who had shown an interest in potions, had available time due to the fact that his tutor had taken ill. Potter, on the other hand, had scheduled lessons during the same time that Draco preferred his. He had seen the boy try to convince Potter to accompany him to the potion lessons but it failed.

In the halls leading to the sufficient potion lab within Malfoy Manor, Potter had drawn Draco closer, as though to whisper in his ear. The Potions Master had shaken his head at the boy's clumsy attempt at secrecy. Didn't the boy realize that there were spells designed just for these purposes? Severus was able to cast an enhancement spell on his hearing before he missed much of what was said.

"-- doesn't like me." The dark haired boy had whispered. "Besides, Master Corbin says I'm ready to start practical spells."

Draco had given an excited murmur in response along with teasing remarks but had otherwise not pushed the boy any further about potions.

Severus wondered if the Malfoys continued with the traditional dark pureblood education with Potter as they had done with their son. He couldn't imagine placing himself in such a dangerous position. If Potter had ever deflected towards the other side, Dumbledore would surely have enough evidence against the Malfoys to erase their existence from the wizarding world. Perhaps the glory of retaining the Potter child as their ward had blinded Lucius' senses. The promise of glory had always been a weak spot for Lucius and after the spectacle of the war, the politician in him may have been desperate to show a good face to the public.

The more Severus thought about it, the more it seemed to solidify in his mind. Now, Severus didn't doubt for one moment what the Malfoys had allowed when it came to the Potter boy's education.

An image of James Potter, face contorted in savage satisfaction as he recklessly casted a dark spell appeared in his mind. A Potter with dark arts knowledge? … _Merlin help us all_...

If Dumbledore wanted to save his little toy, he was running out of time.

* * *

Harry sat at one of the comfortable chairs at Carus Curia, a somewhat expensive café found in Hogsmeade. Neither Lucius nor Narcissa were with him since he was to meet with Mr. Wright for what he termed was "family evaluations."

Harry didn't understand why he still had to meet with this man. Ever since he had accepted the Malfoys as his family years ago, there had rarely been a hitch in their relationship. The adoption papers had been signed a long time ago, and these routine checkups, though much less frequent than before still irritated Harry from time to time, especially since he had much to work on.

His tutor, Master Alphonse Corbin, had been exasperated when Lucius had first introduced Harry as his new student. Master Corbin had this predisposed conception that Harry had absolutely no prior knowledge of Dark Arts, theory or practice, other than being witness to them.

To Harry's chagrin, he had been entirely correct.

The very first lesson that Master Corbin had taught was history. Harry had found those lessons extremely boring but the tutor relentlessly plowed through his lectures. Most of the time, the content did not interest Harry at all but he still paid attention. He was very quick to realize that not doing so would eventually result in appropriate corporal punishment. Master Corbin was very quick with his wand and had no problem with applying quick raps against his hand, specifically his knuckles. The second lesson he had had with Master Corbin had left him with bright red knuckles that, even now, still twinged in remembrance. That was only when he failed to pay attention. It was not so bad most of the time, as the lessons usually had some interesting tale in them. Harry did learn about a wizard that attempted to raise an army of Inferi from a muggle graveyard only to get beheaded. Dark Arts were serious business after all.

Afterwards, Harry spent countless mornings listening to the preliminary facts about Dark Arts before Master Corbin had even mentioned the basics. As the lessons turned to theory, Harry was often assigned thick tomes for information or to supplement what the tutor had talked about. Harry was fortunate that many of those texts were in Lucius' private study.

Harry was also lucky that his teacher had scoffed at the idea of writing essays. "As if I want to read the scribbles of a little child," his teacher then grinned. "Trust me, boy, if you fail to keep up, it will be evident."

Harry had nervously agreed and sped up with his readings to not only keep up but to hopefully get ahead. Master Corbin did not give a syllabus though he clearly had one in mind. This caused Harry to often research many subjects that he believed may come up in his teacher's lectures. Soon, he was often seen carrying one book or another. He was not stupid though, to carry around Dark Arts texts, so he often had them charmed to look and act like another book if it ever left his hands.

Draco had his own tutor who seemed to be more lenient with him. They were both busy but still spent much time together. Since Draco was ahead in studying Dark Arts, he often tried to help Harry with difficult concepts. They had different tutors and each tutor taught what they believed was important or what they preferred. Because of this, Draco and Harry often shared discussions about what they've learned and how the approach the tutor used to explain a lesson contrasted and compared to the other's

It was not always that simple though. Sometimes, one of their tutors would diverge into a subject too deeply and while his student understood the lesson, explaining it to another was difficult. Such was the case of when Harry had tried to explain several time magic theories and their consequences to Draco. That had been a lost cause because while he understood it, he did not do a good job of explaining it.

They had been given their practice wands to use for simple spells. Their practice wands had the hair of a wizard in its core, most likely that of a Malfoy ancestor. Because it had contained seasoned wizard magic, it helped control their wild magic. They were not supposed to have a preference in wizards, compared to real wands, but they seemed to work best for Draco.

His lumos had been bright and stead unlike Harry's, which had been a bit dim and tended to pulse like a dying light bulb. Harry learned that if he pushed hard enough while concentrating, he could achieve the same effect. Sometimes, it frustrated him to see Draco's spell flow effortlessly from his wand. Harry always had to exert more force, more will, more time, pretty much more of everything in order to do the same thing. But the feeling of satisfaction he got at the end result, he felt, was well worth it.

Over time, the amount of force he needed to call out became less and less. He could never achieve the spells with the same ease as Draco did with the practice wand, but he was able to manage the same results. That was good enough for now.

Harry had told Draco about Master Corbin's plans to start practical exercise of what he had been taught. To tell the truth, Harry was rather apprehensive about them, though he wouldn't delay them if he had the choice.

His tutor was vastly different from his very first tutor, who had been a jolly and lenient wizard. Master Corbin was lean and constantly in motion, as though he was plagued by either restlessness or paranoia. His murky brown eyes were often narrowed as he talked passionately about the Dark Arts. There was always a dark gleam in them that Harry couldn't understand. He tried not to let that bother him. He knew that for a tutor to be hired by his foster parents, they had to subject themselves to a thorough background check amongst other precautions.

The prospect of finally putting theory into use also excited him much more than the worrisome thoughts of his tutor. To Harry, these practical lessons were the basis of how to prove himself to Lucius, to show his worth. He knew he had a long way to go, but he was resolute to follow this path in becoming like his foster father. Clever, cunning, a master dueler himself, strong in the Dark Arts... He had been the right hand of a Dark Lord. It was both a goal and a dream that he and Draco shared.

Finally, Mr. Wright entered the small but private café. He briskly walked over, greeting Harry. The usual formalities were followed, questions about his health, his family, if there were any problems. Harry answered them all politely, feeling that these routines had to be kept up for some other nefarious reasons as there have never been any issues released to the public.

Mr. Wright had taken the seat across from him and enlarged the suitcase he had kept in his pocket. Inside were several documents that he pulled out and put into two small stacks on the table.

"Now, Mr. Potter, the ministry has been informed that the Malfoys wanted to adopt you." He said, looking uncomfortable as he reviewed the papers. Harry barely restrained himself from giving the man an incredulous look. Of course the Malfoys wanted to adopt him. In fact, they already had! Was there something wrong with the man?

Instead, Harry simply stared at him. "I believe they have already adopted me, sir."

Mr. Wright looked up from the papers, flustered. "Ah, yes, I know that, I had meant a different type of adoption, Mr. Potter. These are just legalities." He gestured to one stack. "These," he gestured to the other, "are papers for the blood ceremony that they want to perform to make you a part of their family magically. They require your signature if you consent."

Blood ceremonies… Harry had read of them before. It was one of the ultimate ways to tie a person to the family and it required a great amount of trust and loyalty from both parties. They were barely legal, regarded as repulsive to those outside of dark pureblood society. Harry had accepted the adoption, grateful for even that, but a blood ceremony... in their circle, it was the ultimate form of acceptance.

Mr. Wright showed him the paper with a grimace. There, on the last page was Lucius' signature along with Narcissa's.

In shock, Harry simply took the quill from Mr. Wright. He was not so far gone that he didn't notice that the wizard was trying to advise him politely against the ceremony. He ignored the wizard, putting quill to parchment.

Harry Potter, he signed, and without needing to be told, added a drop of his blood to the signature.

* * *

Dobby stood antsy in anticipation.

He was foremost a kitchen elf, though he briefly took over his mama elf's duties when she had been ill a couple years ago. Ever since then, he had been promoted as an errand elf for the kitchen, one of the elves that kept the pantry properly stocked and organized. His mother, Dibby had been ecstatic with joy.

In front of him, the head kitchen elf, Ritsy, yelled out that they were leaving. Dobby had nervously rung his hands before following the rest of the group.

As they were leaving, he saw the young Mr. Potter sitting in the shade of a tree with a heavy book on his lap. Dobby had known of Mr. Potter since before he came to Malfoy Manor. He had often heard of the other elves gossip about wizard talk. How Mr. Harry Potter had vanquished You-Know-Who, the dark wizard that had killed many of their kind.

Most of the house elves around Dobby spoke of wizard news but never gave it much mind. But Dobby often did. Then again, Dobby had been often been told that he was an odd elf. Dibby often cried tears of grief whenever she heard her son speak of freedom, of doing things for the sake of doing them, of not having a master. A good house elf is to be following orders! Dibby would scold. Taking care of the Masters were what all good elves be doing.

Mr. Potter is being a good wizard, Dobby has decided long ago. And good wizards are to being with good wizards before bad wizards turn them bad.

Don't be worrying, Dobby thought to the boy. Dobby will be making it right and safe for Mr. Potter.

With a pop, he followed the rest of the group before he went his separate way.

* * *

Harry entered the dungeon that Master Corbin had requested for the first lesson.

The meeting with Mr. Wright had been scheduled for lunch but Harry had been so elated that he had activated the portkey to return home when their business was concluded.

Instead he joined his family for lunch that day. Lucius had confirmed that yes; the blood ceremony was to take place on his tenth birthday. Harry had many questions. How was it going to affect him? Would he be truly a Malfoy in blood? Would he become blond and gray eyed in appearance? There were many types of blood ceremonies and some of them changed the physical attributes of the witch or wizard that it was performed for.

Narcissa had smiled in quiet amusement, her pale hand touching Harry's hand briefly in assurance when he said he didn't want to look like Draco's twin brother. "We had decided that the ceremony we chose would add you to the family magically, and only magically. Despite the fact that the Potters had become blood traitors, they were a pureblood family," she explained. She smoothed his dark black hair, a Potter trait. "It is a grave insult to a house, to steal one of their blood and then erasing all evidence of their ties to that family name. No, darling, you will still be a Potter in looks and name, but magically, you will be aligned with ours as though you were born a Malfoy."

Lucius and Narcissa had decided that would be the best way. It was not only Harry's famous scar that added to his fame but his Potter lineage in their world. Aside from that, the Potter line had a beauty of its own different from the Malfoy's angelic appearance. Lucius scoffed at the idea but Narcissus had experienced a brief bout of melancholy at idea that the Potter line would vanish with Harry if he underwent a more life altering ceremony. Even though many pureblood families mixed together, there were rarely a time when a line died out. The Black line was the most recent that had fallen. It had caused Narcissa such sadness that her House, while still continued through her son, no longer had a dominate line that carried its name publicly.

Harry had accepted this in relief, though he didn't care much about retaining the name Potter. Becoming Harry Malfoy would have been just as good, but he didn't want to lose his appearance, it was just who he was. Being changed otherwise would take time to get used to and even then he believed that he'd feel like he was in a stranger's body no matter how accustomed he became.

Harry entered the room, closing the door behind him. A stunning spell knocked him unconscious.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was on the floor, looking up at Master Corbin who was leaned over him with a malicious grin on his face.

"That, Potter, is the first lesson you have to learn," he told him. "When entering an unfamiliar environment, always be alert!"

Harry groaned as he sat up, his teacher had obviously not softened his fall if his achy head was testament to that.

Their first practical lesson was turned into another lecture about dueling etiquette versus real life situations.

Master Corbin promised with a smirk that the next lesson would be their first real practice lesson.

He had kept that promise. Harry found himself engaged in a duel with his seasoned Dark Arts professor.

The man was sneaky, was tricky, and was every bit a Slytherin as his family was. He had conveniently failed to tell Harry that they weren't using the dueling etiquette they had discussed. There was no bowing to the opposition to signal the start of the duel. There was only the quick cast of a cutting curse that Harry had managed to jump away from. He was simulating a real life situation. Etiquette could be learned, instincts could not.

Amidst the flying spells, Master Corbin explained that to teach him the niceties of formal dueling would have been a disadvantage to him. "Learn first how to fight," he had said as he dodged Harry's leg locking curse. "If you get caught up in formalities," he swished his wand in the pattern of an impediment jinx, "it will just give me extra work to undo them." He fired a curse that would cause Harry's hands to become rigid. The impediment jinx was designed to slow Harry's movement so that the next spell would catch him. Harry had managed to shield against the first but was hit by the second, causing him to drop his wand.

The teacher regarded him in dissatisfaction, casting the counter curse that freed Harry's hands. He continued the conversation saying, "It'll be safer in the long run to learn how to fight first, then cover up your instincts with gestures. Now be prepared!"

He came at Harry with a vengeance. The spells he was casting now were obviously dark in nature, firing from his wand in quick succession. Harry recognized some of them from theory but barely had any time to react to them. The only chance he had was to run, barely avoiding the spells. One had even singed the edge of his robe causing it to catch on fire before he rolled on the rough ground, putting it out.

After barely five minutes, Harry's stamina had been greatly reduced. It was only a matter of time before Master Corbin stopped playing with him.

Harry crashed into the wall, struggling to keep his numb fingers from releasing his wand.

He slumped down on the floor, pain vibrating through every part of his body. He heard his instructor shout out a spell, a dark ominous purple beam racing straight towards him.

Without even knowing what it was, Harry rolled to the side, the spell just barely missing him.

"You have to do better than that, Potter!" Master Corbin taunted. The man hadn't even broken a sweat yet. He was prowling towards Harry with smooth graceful steps like that of a predator on a hunt. His dark brown eyes were narrowed and his hand expertly held his wand aimed, ready for another spell.

Harry scrambled to his feet, feeling the muscles there scream in response. Blood was running into his left eye from a surface wound on his head. He had lost his glasses earlier and hadn't been able to retrieve them. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop. He had to keep moving. He had injuries, his body protested any movement but the adrenaline pumping through him made it possible to ignore the twinges and aches. He had exhausted himself already, having thrown up countless shielding spells and counter curses. Many of the times, the curses his teacher flung his way had gone right through his shields as though it was nothing but air. If he was lucky, some of them bounced off a shield only to ricochet against the stone walls of the dungeon.

The curses he returned were easily deflected or dodged. At one point, his teacher had even used his shield to bounce the spell back at him. The reality of his amateur dueling skills was humiliating but he didn't care much for that at the moment. All he thought about was surviving, keep moving, get out of the way, and if he could, cast a spell in retaliation. Exhaustion, which had set in a long time ago, was obviously apparent in the clumsy way he dodged, his jittery wand movement, and the sweat pouring down his back. His tutor, on the other hand, looked as though he was taking a stroll through the lavish Malfoy gardens.

He was a master dueler and Harry was not but that little fact did not make the instructor go easier on him. He dueled as though Harry was Dumbledore himself.

"_Crucio_!"

Harry once again tried to dodge the spell, but stumbled over a pit in the ground. His balance careened off course, throwing his body the wrong way. The spell flew past him but nicked him on the shoulder as he went down.

Harry clamped his mouth shut feeling his teeth grind as he swallowed the cry of agony. The nerves on his shoulder felt like they were lit on fire and were slowly being melted from the inside out.

His ankle was badly injured from the fall. He tried to get up but pain shot up his leg as soon as he put pressure on it.

The Dark Arts teacher was slowly advancing towards him, a look of deep satisfaction and disguised blood lust on his face. His wand was held in front of him, pointed at Harry. "Well, Potter," he sneered, "what a pathetic little lesson this was. You are severely lacking and that can get you killed." He licked his lips as though to savor the thought. "Yes it can." He lowered his wand and Harry felt trembling relief wash over his aching sore body. It was over. The lesson was over.

The tutor turned away, and started walking towards his things that had been left protected in the corner of the room. He stopped. "One more thing," he pivoted swiftly, his wand aimed perfectly. "_Crucio_!" Caught with his defenses down, Harry had no chance of dodging as the spell hit him right in the chest.

Liquid fire spread from the site of contact towards every pore of his body. With the full force of crucio, Harry could not hold this in even if he tried. He screamed and screamed as his insides burned away into nothing. He was mindless in his agony, incapable of thinking anything other than about the pain. The pain, it wouldn't stop. He begged mindlessly for it to stop but it just continued relentlessly. It did not care what it was doing to the boy. It did not care that Harry's voice had cracked and that he was screaming himself hoarse. His spine was arched at an impossible angle, his limbs thrashing. All other injuries were nothing in the eternity the spell took to ravage his body and mind.

He was helpless and he was going to die if it continued and it showed no sign of stopping. Terror unlike anything he had ever felt before bubbled up from inside him, adding a new coating of despair to the pain that was eating away at his mind.

Suddenly, Harry's mind was filled with light and he could no longer feel the pain. From deep inside him, that beautiful light he always reached for since he was a little child roared up from his core and came rushing to him. It gathered like a tempest, sweeping the pain and agony away in a wave of warmth. It came roaring out of him, offended and furious, and attacked the source of pain.

Harry heard a scream that was not his own before he blacked out.

When Harry awoke, his body was in a great amount of pain. Even just coming out of sleep, he could feel that his limbs and fingers had been shaking quite badly. The rim of a potion bottle was held against his lips. It smelled disgusting. Harry weakly tried to push it away though his limbs shrieked at the attempt.

"Drink it, boy," his instructor's voice commanded. "The potion is an extremely potent healing elixir. It won't cure all your pain but it'll help tremendously."

Could he really trust this man? He was still alive and that had to mean something.

When the instructor tipped the liquid into his mouth, Harry almost choked, but managed to swallow though it burned as it went down his sore throat.

He struggled to open his eyes. They were still in the dungeons, but his teacher had conjured a small couch which Harry was laying on. The teacher was standing, but looking very haggard. Blood stained the white fabric of his shirt and his face was pinched in disgruntlement.

"I guess I was a little too rough with you, eh, Potter?" He grinned with a feral look in his eyes. "The effects of crucio require certain potions to fully recover from them." In his hand, he held two vials, one a bright green and the other a murky brown that looked like mud. "You will take these in an hour and not before. The consequences of mixing the Victis Elixir with these will make crucio feel like nothing."

He eyed Harry's weak form in distaste. "Here, I'll make it easier for you." He took out his wand, ignoring Harry sharp breathe, and placed a timer on the two vials. "The glass will warm when you need to take them. The timer is in an hour, don't forget. You should be able to get up in about five minutes."

Without further commenting, the instructor left, limping slightly on his left leg.

Harry laid there, contemplating the duel he was just in. Theory was so much easier than the actual duel itself. Harry's mind had quickly absorbed all the texts and books of spell theory, regardless of whether it was light or dark magic. His thirst for knowledge was well fed but was in no way sated. He had given his all in that fight, putting his knowledge of spells and dark arts into good use. But they had been futile again his teacher. It was as though Harry was an open book. His teacher had taken steps to avoid Harry's spells before they even passed through his lips.

And damn that man was well trained in his art. Even now, with a powerful healing potion in his blood, he could feel a slight tremor reverberating through his body.

It's just another thing to learn Harry told himself. It was something much more difficult to learn, because he had to learn it with his body, not his mind. He had to train himself to react with the ease that his tutor did. If Harry hadn't been the target of his tutor's spells, he was sure that the quick, smooth motions of the dark wizard would have captivated him. He wanted to learn such beauty for himself.

He pushed himself off the chair, feeling a bit wobbly. It disappeared once he was able to stand on his own two legs. In slight agony, Harry picked up the two vials that his instructor left him. He could still feel pain, but really, it was nothing compared to what he had felt in the duel. He shuddered as the echo of his terror passed through him.

He had to get better. Carefully, he tried to cast a spell that silenced the sounds of his scuffling so that no one would know he was walking the halls. He was still exhausted, and his hands ached as his magic coursed into the wand to release the spell. It felt strange, as though something inside him had burned cleaning, opening a path for his magic to easily pour out.

He leaned against the wall. He just wanted to get to his room and collapse on the soft mattress of his bed.

* * *

The dungeons of Malfoy Manor were once used to contain and interrogate prisoners, many centuries ago. Torture devices and dark arts objects had been kept in different rooms for different purposes. However, those had been removed and concealed. The dungeon's purpose had been changed to that of a dueling practice area. During the last war, it had been reverted to its original purpose before once again being locked away until recently.

He had been coming and going for Draco's potions lessons on weekends which he had free. As he was returning to the lab, he had felt strong private wards being placed around one of the rooms in the dungeons. That was unusual.

But he couldn't investigate it now. Draco was still waiting in the lab for instruction and the ingredients that Severus retrieved. Honestly, what imbecile would put the storage rooms for potions practically on the other side of the Manor? He would've summoned a house elf to get them but they never understood the caution one needed when handling potion ingredients. House elves had a magic of their own after all, and a house elf summoning an ingredient had the chances of interfering with that item's natural attributes.

So he was forced to retrieve it himself, though annoyed that the walk was far from the lab, he did it anyway. Merlin forbid that he become lazy like his own potions instructor.

He decided to return at a later time. He hated to miss this opportunity but he couldn't chance that Draco report that he had disappeared somewhere in the manor during a lesson.

Something had changed in the Malfoy family.

Potter was elated. Severus could tell by the way he smiled more easily at him and everyone else. Draco was excited as well, chattering even more than usual.

Before the start of today's lessons, he had met with Lucius. He had found him in one of the abandoned rooms where dark artifacts were kept. A portion of those were considered dark because they had been cursed. Lucius had no concern over Severus finding this room. Just like him, Severus would rather let them rot in this room than destroyed by fear in the outside world.

In his hand, Lucius held a single dagger. The handle was tied in black cloth while the blade itself seemed to be rusted and in bad shape. Seeing Severus' gaze fall upon the object in his hand, Lucius brought up his wand, running the tip against the dagger. The rust fell away to show the gleaming silver of the blade.

"It has been in my family for quite a while now." Lucius told him. "It was a gift from a strange... wizard, or so the story goes. My ancestor was unable to refuse it, something seemed to catch his attention, a spark of magic, something like that."

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" Severus inquired, sounding bored. Lucius knew him better than that though. He just grinned and put the dagger away in a safe case. "Of course not. It's about a family matter of mine that I want your help in."

As Lucius explained the situation, Severus was thrown off guard. The Malfoys seemed to be further entrenched in their relationship with Harry Potter than he had assumed for them to take this measure.

He had to tell Dumbledore, though he did so regretfully. Dumbledore agreed that his participation was required and advised him to continue investigating the abnormality he had found there.

There was no way to stop what was happening, they both knew that. They did the only thing they could do in such a case, prepare for the future.

The next time he came in the morning for Draco's lessons, the privacy wards were in place once again. This time, he made sure to provide Draco with instructions and plenty of ingredients before he went to investigate.

He inspected the spell work and yes, there was an eavesdropping ward incorporated into them. There may even be one that informed the caster if a person was too near. He stopped at the edge of the constructed wards and tried to decipher the way they tangled together to form a mesh of spells that prevented wizards, aside from the Lord and Lady of the house, from interfering.

Under his disillusionment charm, Severus continued to try to plant his own bug to see inside when the door of the dungeon opened nearby. He scurried behind a wall, knowing that the person couldn't see or hear him. The bug had been planted on the very edge of the wards. It allowed Severus to see the events happening there in a small glass sphere. Alphonse Corbin, who Severus recognized as one of the Dark Lord's followers, limped out of the room. The privacy wards still remained intact until a wearied Harry Potter exited the room, leaning heavily on the door for a moment. In his hand, he clutched two small vials.

Severus was well acquainted to the effects of many dark arts spells, having been the target of the Dark Lord's wrath on several occasions. His favorite had been crucio, an unforgivable curse, and many Death Eaters had adopted it as their own in some twisted tribute to Voldemort. He was also familiar with many of the potions needed to treat the effects of such spells.

This only confirmed his hunch that the Malfoys allowed Potter dark arts training. What puzzled him is that they allowed the boy to be subject to crucio because that was obviously the effects that Potter was suffering under.

He saw the boy heave a pained sigh before shuffling towards the living quarters under a muffling spell.

* * *

The following lessons were very similar to the last one, but they never reached the same intensity. Harry never again felt that consuming terror he had when he had been held under crucio. It was strange but his tutor seemed to have become more wary of him, a little more careful in how much pain he inflicted.

In one of their recovery periods after a lesson, his tutor had told him that he had been under that spell for close to two minutes. Two minutes. It had felt like eternity.

Just because the practice lessons never reached the same height, it did not mean that his tutor was lenient or easy on him. Harry still ached afterwards, and he was not always given a healing potion. ("You need to toughen that soft body of yours!") Crucio was apparently a favorite of his teacher's though he rarely used it and never for more than a couple of seconds since the last time.

Harry was starting to improve. He was slightly quicker than before, being able to dodge the incoming spells a little more efficiently. Just recently, he managed to cast his own curse at the man as he spun away from a curse that was intended to slash and rot away the surrounding skin. The emotions that had jumbled up his thoughts in the first practical lesson fell quiet as Harry's concentration took in what was happening. He also became more familiar with the environment. Stumbling over something or getting backed into a corner, Harry found, was a quick way to end the duel with his tutor as the victor.

Harry was once again in one of these trying sessions, engaged with the dark wizard. He was going to try something... something he had never tried before.

His teacher shot a hex that was meant to make him fall flat on his face but Harry smoothly sidestepped it before swishing his wand in a familiar pattern.

"_Crucio_!" The spell shot out of his wand and hit his surprised tutor on the arm. Instead of bursting into screams though, the man just grunted in annoyance before shouting another curse.

This one caught Harry and a rope sprung him upside down in the air.

The tutor grinned at him. He walked up to Harry, who was suspended upside down and feeling very humiliated.

"It was a good attempt boy, but you can't just throw around dark spells willy-nilly." He spelled the boy free and watched as Harry crumpled on the ground in pain. "You need the power to back them up; otherwise they're just as useless."

Harry left that practice knowing that the first place he'd go to was the library to research on the unforgivables.

* * *

The dagger was pressed against his throat. It was very carefully moved across the soft skin, barely touching the pale flesh, a thin line of red appearing as the blood welled up. The dagger was taken away, his head released though he still felt the slight burning from the cut. Warm hands touched his blindfolded eyes, ran through his hair, and cupped his face gently, smoothing away the tense lines.

"Drink." A warm goblet, singing of old magic, was pressed against his mouth and he instinctively parted his lips. The substance that poured forth was metallic in taste. It was blood, Harry realized, but he was not repulsed. He was filled with a sense of quiet in this place, as a vessel waiting to be filled. The magic he had felt from the goblet was not from the item itself but what it had housed. The blood was pulsing with energy, the force that allowed their spells existence, and it was transformed into something else other than the life force of humans.

The ritual had enhanced the presence of the magic and overwhelmed the smell and taste that was usually associated with blood. Instead, it smelled of hearth, of burning wood, and home. To Harry, it was the smell of Narcissa's sweet perfume as she held him in her arms. Or the scent of fresh grass, still laden with dew in the early morning as Draco sped past him on a broom, his blond hair ruffled in the wind. It had the scent of leather and polished wood, of Lucius' study where Harry had found himself, found who he wanted to be.

It tasted of power, of warmth as it slid down his throat. He was drinking magic, made pure by the words of the ritual. It was undiluted, simply the force that ran through every wizard's veins and separated them from muggles and he was taking it into himself. It spread throughout his entire body, filling him with a sense of welcoming and completion.

He felt something snap into place, his body jerking forward as the magic of the ritual become realized. He could hear the soft cries of three other people as the magic embedded itself in them also. The snap was inaudible but its coming into being shook the very ground the manor stood in. It slowly ebbed away, leaving Harry to feel more like himself but still somewhat changed.

The blindfold was taken off. The first thing he saw was his family's faces.

His real family now.

The blood that had been given to him in the goblet had been theirs, their magic willingly given, had been used in this ritual.

Harry was officially a Malfoy now, in blood and in magic. Harry Potter of the Malfoys. It tied Harry to the Malfoys with the strength of magic behind it, a bond that no mortal could sever.

His father covered his nakedness with the white ceremonial robes that he was to wear on his birthday. The blood joining ceremony had been planned half a year in advance and Harry had only been informed shortly before it took place. It was not common in the wizarding world for this type of ceremony to take place, not in these times. But it was more widely accepted and practiced in their society.

Dumbledore's side, the light wizards, considered rituals involving blood or sharing of magic, to be barbaric and savage. Harry, although he understood the logic, scoffed at the ignorance and prejudice of such wizards. All they could see was that blood had to shed and used but completely ignored the fact that this particular ritual was a definite guarantee of being accepted into a family, of becoming part of the family magically.

Did they not understand the reverence and solemnity that these rituals demanded?

Every motion, every gesture that needed to be done was all followed to supplement the building of ritual magic. The room they were in, was surrounded by stone walls shaped and built by human hands without magic. The floor was not concrete or marble, or of any human made material but was leveled dirt, firm and natural. The lights had been lit candles and arranged so that they formed a pentagram honoring the elements and spirit.

Harry had proven his trust thrice over with his body, mind, and spirit.

The ritual called for nakedness for the person undergoing the transformation. It showed the sincerity of the person to go in front of their future family with nothing to hide. Later, the head of the family clothed them, symbolizing their support and protectiveness.

The dagger had been used to threaten his life. Not showing trust in the person, who had either been Lucius, Narcissa, or Draco, would have caused the magic around them to fall apart. It would have harmed, even possibly killed Harry if the accumulation of ritual magic had been high enough. Although it was not necessary to have shed his blood, it increased the intensity and gave more meaning to the magic that was building. In a way, it symbolized the giving of blood in return for blood.

And the offering of the goblet was a test also. The magic that had built around them was based upon the environment, the person entering into the family, and the family itself. The magic from the family was an offering, while the magic from Harry, if tainted with perverse intentions would have turned the blood into poison. Such was the design of the ritual to show complete trust and the giving of oneself to become a part of something grander.

He had allowed himself to appear before his family unclothed. He had allowed someone, he didn't know who other than it was his future relative, to place a dagger upon his neck and shed his blood. He had drunk from the goblet, trusting himself and his family that this is what he really wanted.

The magic had accepted and acknowledge their wishes, that Harry was not born but made Malfoy and so it was confirmed.

The ritual, used incorrectly, would have destroyed a person.

Using that logic, Harry understood why light wizards would fear it. They just didn't understand the importance of blood, the bindings that held dark wizarding families together. It was the fierceness in how a family protected each other, the vows of revenge when a loved one was wronged. It was the madness and the genius way a person of dark society reacted took to defending themselves.

It was not based on the light's idea of love as light families believed it should be. That kind of love those wizards believed in, was full of sacrifice, giving without expecting payment, of good conquering evil. But that was not dark society love. Theirs was darker, more potent, something that transcended the implications that it needed a word to define what it was. It just was. Harry almost pitied wizards like Dumbledore, who had no idea of what it felt like to belong to such a family, to the dark society.

Fortunately, others didn't share Harry's pity because they showed no leniency when it came to the outlawing of blood rituals. The inconspicuous presence of blood rituals, which were rarely used in the wizarding world, helped to overrule the desires of many light wizards that wanted it banned.

Alongside with his family, Harry entered the ball room of Malfoy Manor where he shocked many of the guests who were of the dark society while many of the light guests were puzzled by their reaction. The white ceremonial robes had the Malfoy crest on them.

Unlike the previous birthdays that Harry had spent with the Malfoys, this celebration had a mix of population from wizarding society.

As they made their way into the room, they were greeted by many of the dark families that had previously attended their celebrations. The difference was startling to Harry. While they had never ostracized him, he always had a feeling that he was set apart from them. They had always looked at him with scrutiny, as though he was an extra piece to an already complete puzzle. He had grown up believing dark pureblood beliefs, same as Draco, but he was never really one of them.

Until now. They smiled at him, hands reaching out to shake his. He was another Malfoy. Or a Potter returned back to pureblood ways. Either way, he was clearly one of them now. To be here, to be amongst them wearing these particular robes on his birthday, was a clear statement that he had undergone a blood ritual. It didn't matter which one because they were all demanding, calling for sacrifice and giving back what it took. What mattered was that it had succeeded or it would have otherwise maimed or destroyed him.

In the shadows of their eyes, there was a gleam of delight, of welcoming a son back home.

The light wizards were different. They were given the opportunity that the dark purebloods had been given years ago: to catch Harry Potter's attention. They had shown a barely restrained reverence in wanting to touch him, the savior of the wizarding world. They seemed to completely ignore that fact that they were on dark pureblood ground, in the home of the Malfoys.

And they did not understand the underlying statement with his appearance, nor the way that Lucius remained near him amongst them. However, the head of this side, Dumbledore, watched serenely from his table. He understood very well all these implications, and as he caught Lucius' eye, he nodded in acknowledgment. _You won the boy_, _but can you keep him?_

Harry, being truly embedded into dark pureblood ways still had a chance of redemption in Dumbledore's eyes. Lucius didn't believe Dumbledore would ever truly give up on the light's savior. Lucius responded with a slight inclination of the head, an acceptance of the challenge. He turned back to Harry as the boy tried to extract his hand away from an enthusiastic wizard, obviously light. He settled a hand on his son's shoulder to direct him to a dark family that had been watching Harry's interactions with amusement. He gave Dumbledore a grin, watching as the wizard's smile slowly dissipated.

_Do what you will, he is ours now. _


	5. Getting to Know You

A/N: Thank you to everyone that's reviewed! It really makes my day and I love getting feedback. ^o^ And special thanks to Ann10550 for continuing to beta for me despite her busy schedule ^^;

* * *

Chapter 5: Getting to Know You

Harry stifled a yelp of pain as he felt the quick sting of a needle dig into his side. The assistant immediately drew back while apologizing profusely.

Harry remained stiff regardless.

He heard a chuckle near him and turned to face another boy who was also getting his Hogwarts robe measurements. He was the same age, with dark brown hair and sincere brown eyes. While Harry was all angles, this boy was round. Despite the care he received at the Malfoys, it did not easily make up for the periods of starvation he endured from the Dursleys. He was healthy now, no doubt about that, but he never did have a big appetite nor did he have cute baby fat cheeks like this boy. He wasn't fat, no, he just looked like cared for boy.

Harry gave him a hostile look, feeling slightly grumpy about the pins but the boy just continued to smile at him. "I'm sorry for laughing," the boy said earnestly, "but your face had this look that said you wanted to bite her."

He was close, but Harry wouldn't have stooped to such a barbaric thing. A well placed jinx would have worked just as well. He held himself still as he felt the sharp edge of the pin scrape the surface of his skin. He briefly fantasized about what he would've done if he had gotten his wand first instead of doing robe measurements.

"I'm Neville Longbottom," the boy introduced himself. Harry's eyes slightly widened in surprise. The Longbottoms were purebloods, almost as pure as the Malfoys, despite their muggle loving ways. Like the Potters, they were regretfully blood traitors. Harry concealed a grimace of disgust. Just the thought of turning against his culture made him nauseous. He eyed the boy, unsure but wary of associating with a Longbottom.

Fortunately, he couldn't offer to shake hands since the tailors were still busy bustling around them. Politeness was something that had been drilled into him since before the Malfoys and even now it was encouraged. Family honor and how others perceived them was an important image that Harry did not want to tarnish.

"Harry Potter of the Malfoys." he replied coolly, turning back to face forward as an assistant worked to measure his collar. Hopefully though, the light wizard would take the hint and stop bothering him. He did no such thing but continued to gaze at Harry as though he were a puzzle that needed putting together. Harry watched him from the corner of his eye, trying to be inconspicuous. The boy smiled at him, looking so cute with his chubby cheeks that Harry felt his fingers twitch, just wanting to pinch them to spite him.

"Congratulations on your blood adoption," he said.

Surprised, Harry quietly thanked him, feeling slightly perturbed at the boy's sincerity.

"It was on your last birthday, right?" To which Harry gave a nod. "I'm sure you must've been really happy."

Longbottom continued to talk quietly as the assistants continued their work. Harry didn't want to be seen associating him but he didn't want to be rude either, so he indulged the other boy by occasionally answering and commenting.

He didn't want to say that Longbottom had become a friend but the boy seemed to be decent company. Neville had given a goofy grin when one of his comments had caused Harry to give a slight shake of his head in amusement. Neville seemed intent on trying to get a laugh out of him and Harry knowing this goal was adamant in remaining aloof. His lips did twitch several times though but Harry refused to consider that as laughter.

Harry found out that like him, Neville had been orphaned in the war. However, unlike Harry, he was fortunate that he still had a living magical relative that took him in and cared for him.

When asked about the Dursleys, Harry had simply shrugged and said "They were pathetic fearful muggles," before falling into a somber silence.

Even after his robe measurements were finished, Neville continued to converse with Harry, sitting in one of the available seats. The sight of Harry being moved like a mannequin had apparently amused him.

They eventually stumbled upon the topic of light and dark, to which their options vastly differed. It had shocked Harry into awakening, having been lulled into a sense of companionship with Neville. For those brief moments, Harry had almost forgotten who he was talking to.

Even though he had initially been reluctant, he had been drawn into conversation with Neville. There was something in him that had wanted to be the boy's friend. He didn't really have any other real friends besides Draco. There were Draco's friends like Vincent and Greg but they were more like acquaintances. He had never had these long talks with Draco's friends as he just did with Neville.

Neville was so very different from everyone else he knew. He seemed so pure, so innocent, and so good at heart. Instinctively, Harry had relaxed knowing that the boy would not be playing any underlying games. Lucius' opinion of the boy would have been narrowed down to one word: naive.

It was those same qualities that caused the rift between them. Neville had this silly little idea that Harry was light because he came from a light family. Harry had instantly corrected that assumption.

Neville had frowned, a line of confusion forming between his eyes. They were sitting in the waiting room now, just two boys waiting for their guardians.

"Gran told me once that we can't change the nature of people," he told Harry. His eyes were troubled as they looked into Harry's.

"Harry," he said, as though he were to reveal a life altering secret. Harry wondered when the other boy had started addressing him by his given name. His focus centered on Neville as the other boy leaned a little bit closer, his shoulders brushing his. "Dark wizards do bad things," he slightly shuddered in remembrance of something and continued "Very bad things... Maybe the Malfoys are different but you can't let them suck you into the dark." He watched Harry, as though pleading with him to understand.

Harry did understand. He understood that Longbottom, like many of the light wizards he had met through his parents, were bigots. He felt his emotions rear up inside him, feeling slightly betrayed by this boy he had just met. But that didn't make any sense, did it? They didn't even know each other. He felt a sense of indignity rise with it, before they quieted like the times he was engaged in a duel with his tutor.

They were just like the Dursleys, so fearful of something they did not understand. Harry found such ignorance disgusting.

He felt his resolve shift into place. Harry returned Neville's gaze, calm and watchful. He leaned away from the other boy, putting more space between them and watched as more confusion filtered into his brown eyes at his reaction. Casually, he replied, "You shouldn't fear what you don't know." He stood up, seeing Draco and Narcissa enter the front of the store.

Surveying the confusion he caused in Neville, he felt a sense of regret. They were both wizards, that was true, but they might as well have been from different worlds. He didn't look back at the boy, as he walked away.

Draco gave him a questioning look as he reached them. "Longbottom?" He sneered at the boy, "you shouldn't be talking to the likes of him, Harry. Muggle lovers," he made a sound of disgust.

Harry opened his mouth, feeling a little bit offended on Neville's behalf though he didn't know why.

Narcissa's cool hand on his shoulder stopped him from blurting out hurtful words. He clamped his mouth shut and turned away walking towards Ollivander's shop. Draco watched him, feeling a bit confused himself. Harry and he rarely got into fights and when they did, Draco usually knew what had caused them. He didn't understand why Harry had walked away in this situation.

"Draco, have some respect. Longbottom is still a pureblood." She leaned down to look into his eyes. "Can you not see how Harry could have easily been Longbottom?" Of course he couldn't see that, not yet, but Narcissa thought it would be good to open his eyes a little to the world. She never cared much for what ifs, but felt that a little bit more decorum was necessary to instill in her son.

"Harry's dark though!" Draco protested, becoming agitated at the thought of losing Harry to Longbottom of all people.

"He is," she confirmed, "but... if Harry were not a Malfoy," _if he had been brought up with those muggles..._ "What then?"

Draco had spent the rest of the evening contemplating that little fact. Like Narcissa, Draco never thought much of what ifs. His parents had made him more aware of things to look out for, of subtle gestures and the ways of purebloods.

The more he thought about it though, the more he realized how right his mother was. Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter were like mirror images of one another. They were both born into light families that had been targeted by the Dark Lord. They had suffered at the hands of Lord Voldemort and his followers either directly or indirectly. If their fates had been traded, would Neville Longbottom be his brother instead of Harry? It disturbed him quite a lot as he thought about never knowing his brother other than as a name. He determined that even if Longbottom had come into his family, it would not be the same as Harry's situation. Draco determined that he would never have accepted someone like Longbottom as his brother, even though he didn't know anything about him.

In his own way, Draco had apologized to Harry for acting the way he did.

In the wand shop, it was pandemonium as Ollivander tried to find Harry's destined wand. Wand after wand had caused many things to happen, most of which were negative signs. The most common was the wand boxes flying in all directions only to stop, dropping to the ground as Ollivander quickly snatched the wand away.

Draco was inside a protective bubble that Narcissa had conjured to protect them from the flying boxes. After so many tries, the Malfoys were starting to become exasperated since there seemed no end to the wand trials in sight.

Finally, Narcissa threatened to go to another wand maker, even if they had to go abroad. Ollivander had squeaked in alarm before running to the back room where he retrieved a dusty case.

"Eleven inches! Phoenix feather at its core, nice and supple." He cautiously handed the wand to Harry.

The moment Harry had touched the smooth surface; he knew it was the one for him. He could literally feel the magic sing in his blood. It came rushing out, entering the holly wood and channeling into the phoenix feather within. It was very different sensation from how the practice wands and previous wands he had tried had reacted to him. They had always felt as though there was some sort of blockage and Harry had to constantly push his magic into existence. The wand he held in his hands called out to his magic and unlike the exertion he needed with the practice wand, his magic flowed freely.

With the hum of magic in his ears, Harry waved the wand in a smooth arched movement, brilliant sparks coming from tip, trailing in the air before disappearing.

Everyone was relieved to see Harry had finally found his wand. Unknown to Harry, who was caught up in excited chatter about their new wands, Ollivander kept glancing at him and Narcissa worrying whether or not to disclose that wand's particular origin.

Brother wands... It was a very uncommon concept but... Ollivander kept quiet, watching as the Malfoys left his store.

When they returned back to Malfoy Manor, the first thing that Narcissa had done was to do something about the hidden ministry spells that had been casted on any recently made wands. It was a result of the part war, as many things were, to have monitoring spells on wands to detect the use of illegal Dark Arts. With a special type of spectacles that Narcissa had taken from the Malfoy vaults, she was able to detect the silvery band that wand makers were required to add.

She didn't remove the spell completely but instead disabled it so that if necessary, she could revive it in the future. The main reason why she hadn't removed it was because such spells were warded to alarm the ministry if it were removed. Narcissa knew though, from other families who took office in the ministry, that there was not yet a ward that detected the disabling of the spell. It was illegal to tamper with those spells but the tampering couldn't be traced back to its source.

If such a case ever happened where Draco or Harry were caught performing Dark Arts, which she highly doubted would occur, then whoever tried to pin the tampering on her or Lucius wouldn't get much of a chance. The Malfoys had a series of uncollected debts that could be called in and not to mention lots galleons. If they couldn't even imprison Lucius for his actions in the war, how can they possibly attempt to judge her son and the Boy-Who-Lived?

It would be less than two months until the boys went to attend Hogwarts. Both Lucius and Narcissa had debated earlier that year whether it was a wise choice. The school was light infested after all, with the figurehead of light wizards as headmaster. One could almost see it as practically giving Dumbledore his savior back. Surely, the old man would try to convince Harry of their ways and may even use Draco as a weapon. The brotherly bond between the two children was very clear and if Dumbledore was as clever as they believed, then any weaknesses or opportunities would be exploited.

As Narcissa had sat with Lucius, she contemplated the seriousness of this issue, for it could destroy their family if they underestimated either of their sons. She found, though, that she had no doubts about Harry or Draco and Lucius agreed with her. Lucius had pride to back up his words but Narcissa had her instinct as a mother. Still, despite this, they still discussed other options. If there was an easier and more secure way, they would take it.

Durmstrang Institute was predominately dark and several Malfoys had attended there before. The teachings there would supplement what Harry and Draco were learning through their tutors. But then again, they were both doing fine with their lessons, most likely ahead of even first year students at Durmstrang. Families that had decided to send their children to the predominately dark school often tended to be lax with their children's starting education but not the Malfoys. Durmstrang also had a strict no muggleborn rule which had pleased them both in comparison with Hogwarts which did not.

Corbin was enthusiastic about the practical lessons he gave to Harry and had reported that the boy was improving by leaps and bounds in each passing lesson. Draco's lessons with Severus had also been going well and perhaps attending Hogwarts would further encourage him to improve.

They eventually decided to settle with their initial arrangement, sending the boys to Hogwarts after all. Durmstrang was a temptation to all dark families but they really didn't teach much else besides Dark Arts or subjects with a perspective inclined towards the Dark Arts. While that may have sounded good, Dark Arts were addictive and a wondrous subject, Lucius and Narcissa both agreed that they wanted Harry and Draco to know other types of magics also. What good is knowing how to cast magic if it can only be used in one specific way? It limited one's practice of magic and neither wanted that.

It would also be a good opportunity for them to understand how the real world worked. Lucius didn't doubt for a moment that things had changed since Dumbledore took the position of headmaster. While things had never been horrible for the students in Slytherin, they were not always fair. Having spoken to the recent graduates of Hogwarts, it was confirmed that surviving as a Slytherin against the other houses was harder now. Their House had become even more segregated since the war, often called the dark wizard's house behind their backs, not that they cared. Being dark was their pride and the result of such foolish segregation was a miniature version of what was the dark society, right at the heart of Hogwarts. Ironic, wasn't it?

Sending Draco and Harry to Hogwarts was like training them for the political and social propriety that they would need once they enter the wizarding society. It suited to their purposes, more so than the immense knowledge of Dark Arts that they could easily gain in the libraries of Malfoy Manor.

With this issue settled, Narcissa changed her gown into that of her dueling outfit. Dueling robes, while usually black in color were less of a nuisance than normal robes. There was less material that got in the way, which meant more freedom for movement. It was necessary in duels to be able to move quickly and efficiently. Lucius was a master dueler and as his wife, Narcissa could not be any less.

Her robes, which she hadn't worn in a decade, were pristine white in coloring. It was a tradition of her Black lineage to wear white robes in duels and one that she liked to follow. In real battles, she never allowed herself the risk but back when the line of Black had been stronger, when there were more Blacks... Fighting against batch of Blacks who were all master duelers was madness. Back then, the sight of white robed figures had struck fear into the hearts of opposing wizards. White was an empty color and easily took the color of blood during battle. It recorded every fallen opponent and every mistake the dueler made.

She met her husband out in the hall, his appreciative eyes taking in her white clad form. A smirk appeared on his face and she smiled, knowing he knew the tradition she followed. It was a twisted idea, one solely Black.

Their sons were in the dungeons that they had agreed to use. Harry and Draco had both been introduced to dueling practices, the etiquette followed and the rules that must broken in true battle. Here, Lucius and Narcissa wanted to introduce another element to dueling. It was a component that bonded family members closer together. Watching each other's backs was a common phrase that meant looking out for one another but not for them.

In the past, it had been a literal expression used in duels and battles. It was generally practiced, though average wizard did not knowingly understand what they were learning. There were no set rules, just the learning and familiarizing of each other in action of becoming accustomed to another presence by their side.

Without any explanations, Lucius told the boys that they would be dueling them today. Narcissa grinned at their startled expressions, taking her place by her husband's side. Her wand came out, her arms falling into position as Lucius took his stance next to her.

There would be a bit of showing off in this lesson but it was necessary to show how powerful such a technique can be.

Overcoming astonishment, the boys quickly readied themselves and the fight began. It was Malfoy against Malfoy, children against parents. If it were a serious duel, Narcissa and Lucius could've had the children flat on their back unconscious in less than two minutes. It was more of a demonstration than anything, with a little bit of participation from the students.

They wasted no time in playing with their opponents, falling into a familiar stance that allowed Lucius and Narcissa to alternate in spells, casting either offensive or defensive. They hadn't done this in such a long time as there was no need, but the knowledge never went away. They moved as though they had battled just yesterday.

Lucius and Narcissa weaved their spell casting together; combining spells and maneuvers in beautiful synchrony. It spoke of familiarity, of a union of two bodies, souls, and magic that allowed them to move in coordination. It was a mockery of the formal dancing that all purebloods were taught but even more enchanting as it was deadly. It was a combination of themselves, of Lucius' strength and Narcissa's cleverness.

Only they knew the steps to this dance because only they knew each other as well.

The couple was so used to fighting by each other's side and away from each other that they instinctively knew what their spouse was planning. Narcissa's step to the side, opening up a vulnerable area was intentional to allow her husband to take offensive in that direction. Lucius' touch to her shoulder told her to duck low for a spell he fired in her direction, which instead of hitting her, went flying towards Draco.

Like this, they were not separate entities, but the same as they casted, blocked, dodged and moved together.

The boys were doing better than they had expected but were missing the main point of this exercise. They acted as separate units, looking out for only themselves as they were used to doing. When Narcissa and Lucius both turned their attention on Harry, casting double tripping jinxes, he had no way to cancel the spells. The boy had fallen flat on his face, and Lucius winced in apology before turning back to their son. A tightening of Narcissa's lips had conveyed that no, the boys were not ready for both their attentions. Thus they went back to being offensive and defensive but never both at the same time. It limited this capabilities but it gave no advantage to the two boys.

After recovering, Harry had casted a cutting curse, angling the spell so that it bounced off a metal shield that hung on the wall being redirected towards Lucius. Narcissa felt her lips pull up into a grin before casting a shield in front of her husband, successfully blocking it. At the same time, Lucius took this opportunity to cast a blasting curse near the ground of Draco's feet, causing him to jump away in alarm.

Harry had not wasted any time, and had decided to make a more strategic decision, moving in the opposite direction and leaving Draco at their front while making his way to their back.

Knowing his motive to divide their concentration, Narcissa reached out her hand, feeling Lucius instinctively clasp it before he spun her around in a twirl to retaliate to another spell that flew towards them. She fell back into place, aiming her wand at Draco the same time her husband aimed his in the opposite direction, their arms brushing together and hands still clasped.

"_Expelliarmus_!" their voices called out in union, two wands flying into their grasps.

Harry and Draco stared at them in awe, both sons covered in sweat and grime and a hunger to learn more. It was exactly the reaction that they had been aiming for.

Now they were ready for an explanation.

* * *

The remaining months at Malfoy Manor had quickly passed in a whirl of dueling practices and lessons with some well deserved breaks in between. Narcissa and Lucius had introduced a new kind of dueling, one that was practiced when fighting against more than one opponent. It could be used in real situations but rarely since it required a partner that one was used to. That familiarity only came with countless practices and years of experience as both Narcissa and Lucius had.

Nevertheless, Harry and Draco had practiced that form of dueling. With their new wands, Harry found that casting spells, especially Dark Arts, was effortless to him now. Both boys enjoyed taking the offensive but Draco had more enthusiasm for it while Harry had more creativity on joint maneuvers.

Harry still continued his lessons with Master Corbin but no matter how hard he pushed, the dark wizard never again tried to crucio him the same way as the first lesson. One would think that the lack of extended crucio would've made him happy but Harry had found that he learned best under dire circumstances. The quiet that came with dueling had come from that one lesson after all.

With September approaching, it was decided that their practical lessons would halt until the summer. That did not stop Master Corbin from assigning him a long roll of parchment with a list of books to study. He also warned his student that he would be tested on the material come summer.

Soon, Harry found himself sitting in one of the compartments of the Hogwarts Express.

As soon as they had gotten on the train, Draco had pretty much ditched him to go look for Master Snape. Apparently their mother had an urgent letter that needed delivering and also needed the security that owl post could not provide.

Harry had fled into an empty compartment, intending to enjoy the privacy before word got out that he was on the train.

He moodily thought about the upcoming year at Hogwarts. He was actually looking forward to it a lot, although feeling a bit apprehensive about how he would be treated there.

His fame was a useful weapon but most of the time, it was just a nuisance.

Being with the Malfoys had somewhat helped with that. Lucius was a rather imposing figure after all. Harry didn't know anyone besides Narcissa, who was not affected by his father's haughty expression, his gray eyes sharp as a dagger and his words just as cutting. This image worked well enough for them since they couldn't restrain people from approaching Harry in public. Sometimes though, he had gone out on his own (with permission, of course), and couldn't rely on Lucius protecting him. Therefore, on those days when Harry had wanted a little bit of privacy, he'd taken to arranging his bangs to specifically cover his scar. He also pulled the rest of his hair in a haphazard manner. It was amazing how many people had gotten so accustomed to his tidy appearance that the scruffy image he presented was mostly ignored.

To the public, Harry Potter was a savior, neat and orderly as brought up by the Malfoys. His hair was tamed and parted in a way that eyes couldn't help but gravitate to the famous scar. Many reporters had commented that his green eyes were remarkable and one of a kind.

Harry had been amused at those comments. If he was such a well known figure, surely they would recognize him with this disguise which was not that much different from his usual appearance. But because they didn't, Harry only further confirmed that no one outside the Malfoys really knew his true self. His first testing of the disguise had caused Draco to literally shrieked in horror when he saw Harry's crazed hair and had ran towards the bathrooms where emergency potions were kept. Severus, who had been accompanying his godson, had coughed rather convincingly though Harry managed to catch the snort of disgust. With his disordered hairstyle and charmed brown eyes, no one really turned to look at him in public.

Fortunately, this disguise wasn't often necessary since he usually had the elves run errands for him or he'd wait to accompany his family on planned outings. In those cases, no amount of hair ruffling or charms could conceal the dark haired boy amongst the Malfoys. Nowadays, seeing the Malfoys in Hogsmeade or Diagon Ally was a sure way of finding Harry Potter.

Harry had even heard a disguised reporter talking with a colleague about what they called "Malfoy watching." Apparently it was keeping watch for the distinctive hair coloring of any Malfoy for it surely meant that the Boy-Who-Lived was also nearby. Being able to get first dibs on the elusive boy was a reporter's dream despite all the news articles that they ran about him.

Harry had purposely walked up to that reporter and asked him for directions to one of the nearby stores. He had looked up at the wizard with a hopelessly confused expression, blinking worried brown eyes at him. The reporter had told him to "Scram!" and he did, happy that his disguise has worked well enough. Harry wasn't foolish enough to think that this option would always be available to him, because sure enough, someone was bound to find out about it. It was all for the best anyway, he wouldn't have wanted to become dependent on having a disguise to get away from crowds.

The times when he was swamped by admirers, Harry was forced to shake so many hands that he often felt as though there was a layer of grim on his skin. His face was accustomed to smiling so much that the muscles instinctively fell into a well practiced grin when met by astonished wizards. After the many times of this same scene occurring, Harry eventually retreated to the library when coming home, obsessed with finding sanitation spells. If there were none, he'd force his family to accompany him to buy some muggle sanitizer if wizards didn't have an equivalent.

Draco, on the other hand, had basked in Harry's fame, soaking in the wide eyed stares and never ending flashes of cameras. If Harry ever felt that he needed more pictures of him and Draco, all he would have to do was simply look in the newspapers and cut out the photos. As it were, there have been a total of at least forty pictures if not more in the past month.

Harry had learned to be grateful for the privacy wards in Malfoy Manor which prevented anyone, especially reporters, from bothering them. Lucius had even added more security to the grounds which amused Harry greatly when he spotted the magical peacocks that took residence near the entrance of the estate. Harry had first thought it was a way to show off their wealth, as Lucius often enjoyed doing but the birds were watchful and magical. It was a very creepy feeling to have the peacock's eyes following him as he walked past. When he had told this to Draco, the boy had given him a weird look wondering how their eyes could possibly be creepy. Harry agreed that they wouldn't have been if it were their eyes... but the eyes he was talking about were the eyes found on their feathers. Yes... having a hundred eyes following him was a disturbing feeling. And that was only one bird, there were surely a good number of them and therefore many, many more eyes.

Sighing, he figured that he'd have to deal with the student body no matter what their reaction was. His mood lightened as he thought about the people he already knew at Hogwarts. The children his age were mostly attending Hogwarts and that included the Malfoy's two allied families, the Crabbes and Goyles. Pansy Parkison and Millicent Bullstrode were also attending Hogwarts and although Harry never felt comfortable around the girls, it was still good to know them.

In his lap, he held the first Defense Against Dark Arts book that they were to use for the school year. He was flipping through the pages and slightly disappointed with how elementary they explained spells and effects. He had been warned by his father that they did not teach Dark Arts here. It had baffled him that they taught a way to defend themselves but not what they were defending themselves against.

He was pulled out of his musing as the compartment door was opened. Standing there was a red headed boy, his hair in a bit of disarray and falling into his blue eyes. They widened in surprise as they saw Harry. "Sorry!" He exclaimed, "I didn't know anyone was in here. Do you mind if I come in?"

Taking in the boy's obviously second-handed robes and his lack of manners, Harry hid a grimace but nodded his consent. He obviously not a dark pureblood, otherwise Harry would have recognized him from the many gatherings he had gone to. He had a rough manner to him also, which indicated that had did not have the same upbringing as one from the Malfoys' circle.

The boy grinned and turned back to the hall, pulling a beat up trunk into the compartment. Harry studied him and realized that the bright hair color reminded him of someone he had met before but couldn't remember who.

As the boy settled himself in, the trunk on the floor by his feet, Harry took out his wand. "You know," he told the redhead. "It's best if you put a lightening charm on your luggage, at least then you won't have to drag it behind you everywhere."

The boy's mouth fell into an "O" before saying "I guess, uh, Mum forgot to do that. And I don't know the spell..." he trailed off. Harry shrugged and tapped the trunk with the tip of his wand, casting the featherlight charm.

"Wicked!" The boy exclaimed as he picked up his trunk with a finger. "Oh! I know a spell also!" He reached over to the rat cage that was tied to his trunk, introducing his pet. "This is Scabbers by the way." It was funny how he hadn't even introduced himself but Harry already knew his pet's name.

The boy then attempted to change his rat's fur color which obviously failed. Embarrassed, he tried to shrug it off saying that his brothers had taught him the spell but was obviously just a prank.

"By the way, I'm Ron Weasley," he finally introduced himself. Weasley! That's why the boy was familiar despite being a stranger. Harry still remembered the woman from the orphanage who had smothered him with hugs and tears. Her name along with her husband's had fallen away from his mind as the years had passed but he still remembered how uncomfortable he had been with them.

"Harry Potter of the Malfoys." he said in return. He offered his hand because etiquette called for it. The boy's blue eyes widened in surprise before he clasped the offered hand and shook it hesitatingly.

"Wow..." he breathed, staring intently. Harry shifted, uncomfortable. He was not a captured mythical creature under observation, thank you very much, but he held his tongue.

"Do you have the..." Ron gestured to his own forehead. Feeling disappointment welling up inside him, Harry nodded stiffly, moving his hair out of the way to display the famous curse scar.

"Wicked." The boy's eyes were slowly filling with an emotion that Harry had learned to identify. _Ugh_, Harry thought to himself in was not impressed with the hero worship that he saw in the blue eyes when they realized just who he was.

The boy snapped out of his daze to Harry's relief. His face flushed slightly as he realized how hard he had been staring. He fidgeted in his seat. "Uh, you know. My mum and dad told me that tried to adopt you back then." Harry shrugged, going back to his book, saying, "I remember."

The boy leaned forward, disturbed. "Why didn't you then?" _How... rude_, Harry thought as he glanced at the boy.

Closing the book, Harry simply said. "I had met the Malfoys before your parents and I liked them."

"But the Malfoys are..." he trailed off unsure of what to say though Harry recognized that anything he had in mind would have been insulting to the Malfoy name. He felt a brief flair of annoyance blossom in his chest and frowned as he regarded the boy. Ron was obviously trying to find a way to describe his thoughts without insulting Harry but still insulting his family.

"Educated. Clever. Sophisticated. Brilliant." Harry spat at the boy. "They're everything I've ever wanted and you say one bad thing about them and you'll find yourself hanging in the hallway in your knickers!"

Stunned, Ron could only work his mouth open and closed without any sound. His face had become an unappealing tomato red at this point in anger and embarrassment but amazingly, he restrained himself as he snapped his mouth closed. Satisfied, Harry turned to another book, this one for Charms, which only irritated him more since it was material that he had learned long ago.

The other boy remained in silence on the other side. Having calmed down but still a bit angry, he tried to gain Harry's attention. "So... what House do you want to be in?" he asked tentatively before becoming slightly more confident when the other boy didn't snarl at him. "My... my family has always been in Gryffindor. I'm going to be in Gryffindor also!" he said proudly, his chest puffing up at the thought.

Harry's mouth twitched in amusement as he thought about how Ron would react if he said Slytherin as his answer. He could tell that the boy was very naive and stubborn. He probably thought Harry would be in Gryffindor also, just because his parents had been in that house.

"Slytherin." he answered and true to form, Weasley sputtered in surprise. Without allowing him time to protest or come up with any other alternative excuses to why he should be in Gryffindor, Harry said resolutely, "I know the Potters were in Gryffindor, but I'm not limited to what they were. I will be in Slytherin." Determination rang true in his words. Harry believed that there was nothing in the world that could change his destiny to go into Slytherin.

"But Harry! All wizards in Slytherin have gone.. bad. They're all dark wizards!" His hands clenched in his lap as he told Harry this. Did he fear for the Boy-Who-Lived?

Speaking with this boy was slowly frustrating Harry. Then a thought crossed his mind as his fingertips caressed the edges of the book on his lap.

Should he? Should he really bait the boy? He grinned to himself, why not?

Nonchalantly, but with such seriousness in his green eyes, Harry looked up at the boy, saying "I am a dark wizard. Just the other day, I sacrificed a virgin in offering to Quetzalcoatl." Harry had picked a random god, one that Weasley would most likely not heard of. Weasley's eyes widened into huge blue orbs of horror, the boy inching away from him looking ready to bolt out of the room. He stuttered, "You-You're not …!"

"Just kidding." Harry said to him, before returning to his book. "Quetzalcoatl didn't like human sacrifices." Nervous laughter poured out of the boy as he slumped in relief. He had probably accepted Harry's statement to mean that he wasn't a dark wizard either. What an unobservant boy, he speculated as he watched the boy from the corner of his eye.

After a few minutes, Ron Weasley was relaxed once again. He told himself that he shouldn't take Harry's words so seriously. Maybe being with the Malfoys had given him a peculiar sense of humor, or a dark one.

The boy was a legend and was sitting across from him as though he was like any other boy.

Just then the compartment door opened, this time with Draco and his friends waiting in the hallway.

"Harry, I found!" Surprised, he looked at the red headed boy that sat with his brother before giving Harry a fake exasperated look. "I swear, every time I leave you, I always come back to find you picking up strays and all sorts of things."

The red-headed boy's face turned an ugly red as he opened his mouth, his temper spewing forth words in anger. "Blond hair, gray eyes, and reeking of evil, you're obviously a Malfoy." He glared up at Draco. "Too bad Harry here defeated You-Know-Who, your future job as a Death Eater in training was sabotaged."

Draco was not amused and neither was Harry. "Well let's see here," he said as he made a show of looking at the boy from head to toe before saying, "red hair, secondhand robes, and a trunk about to fall apart," he sneered as he nudged the pathetic trunk. Ron's hands clenched into fists. "It's obvious you're a Weasley. What are you doing here, traitor? Trying to infect Harry with your dirty ways?"

"If he doesn't want me to leave, I'm not leaving!" He stared up in defiance from his seat. Draco shot a look at Harry who had stood up. He pointed his wand at Ron, saying clearly, "Unless you want me to keep my earlier promise, I suggest you leave." Although he didn't know what Harry was talking about, Draco grinned in triumph while the people behind him snickered.

"Does it look like he wants you there, Weasley?" Draco taunted, feeling exhilarated as Ron's face fell. "Get out already." The boy stared at Harry's wand which was pointed towards him. His red face had paled and with a betrayed look in his eyes, he grabbed his things.

He elbowed his way out of the compartment, throwing a glare at Draco's direction. The door was slammed in his face, the group of future Slytherins settling themselves in the compartment. They laughed about the situation, at how red the boy's face had become. Unlike the situation will Neville, Harry hadn't felt the slightly remorse in seeing the boy go.

He guessed that it had to do with the fact that he was getting sick of everyone treating him like he was some sort of celebrity, available to the public as though he were a piece of property. That and, honestly, did Weasley really believe that Harry would go against his brother and their friends? Harry had been with Draco since before they started casting spells. That sort of bond would obviously triumph over a stranger's.

He did also warn Weasley what he would do if he even uttered an insult about the Malfoys. In all honesty, he should have followed through on his warning and left the boy hanging upside down in his knickers for everyone to ridicule and laugh at.

"Can you imagine, Harry, if you were stuck with the Weasleys?" Pansy had giggled, patting him on the shoulder as though he were in need of comfort. Harry shuddered at the thought. If the boy was any indication of how his family raised him, then Harry considered him very lucky to have avoided such a fate.

Seeing the expression on his face, the future Slytherins laughed but agreed that yes, he had narrowly missed his doomed future as a Weasley.

Their conversation about the first year books was interrupted when the compartment door was once again opened.

This time a girl with bushy hair stood in the doorway, peering inside as she asked, "Excuse me, has anyone here seen a toad? It belongs to a student here and he seems to have los-- Oh my God! You're Harry Potter!"

She became excited as she babbled some nonsense about reading about the Boy-Who-Lived and his story. The group of students just stared at her, fascinated at how fast she was talking. It was like knowing the Hogwarts Express was going to run you over flat but unable to do anything but watch.

"You have a scar right? On your forehead from when the killing curse rebounded?" In her excitement she had leaned forward and brought out a hand to touch Harry's scar.

That hand was snatched by Pansy, halting her from touching the dark haired boy. "What do you think you're doing?" Pansy demanded. "Are all mudbloods like you? Rudely bombarding people with questions and doing as you please?"

"Mudblood...? What?" The girl, who had introduced herself as Hermione Granger, asked in confusion. Vincent rolled his eyes before standing up. Even at eleven years old, Vincent and Gregory were large boys. The girl, clearly a muggleborn, backed up in fear as the boy approached her. She squeaked as he reached out a hand but all Vincent did was shut the door.

Harry sighed and thanked Pansy for interrupting and stopping the girl. He told the group that he had been dreading these kinds of things when they got to school. Draco, who understood what Harry was going through, patted him on the shoulder in sympathy.

Pansy crossed her arms, eying the door. "Does anyone know how to do a warding spell to keep people out? Or at least something that'll tell them to go away."

Greg grinned, saying "Nothing like that, but I know a spell that'll scream at them if they touch the door knob."

Draco clapped his hands in approval. "Good enough!"

The rest of the train ride was uninterrupted; except for the first time someone had tried to open the door. It had startled the group inside as well as the person in the hall. A simple silencing charm to avoid hearing outside noises solved that problem.

After the train ride, the first years were forced into these rickety boats to cross the Hogwarts Lake. Their group was divided into two boats, with Harry in Draco's. The view of Hogwarts was simply beautiful. The group had watched the castle come into view in complete silence.

This is where they were going to spend the next seven years of their lives. The implications of that was even more awe inspiring than the castle's size. He wouldn't waste the years he was to spend here, whether it devouring the library of its contents or drilling the teachers of their knowledge. If possible, he would absorb all that he could like a sponge or burst like a balloon with all he learned.

As they were being led into the Great Hall of the castle, Harry looked around at the other first years. He recognized some of the children from the dark society and smiled when he caught their eyes. He saw Neville's dark brown hair somewhere but couldn't really see the boy.

Many of the other children in the group were mostly excited, though he did see several that looked to be scared out of their wits.

Around them were students already seated along the four long tables, one for each house. The Great Hall was filled with the chattering of students. Among the tables, several ghosts could be seen interacting with the students. Harry became slightly uncomfortable as he recalled the Malfoy ghost but none of them approached him nor treated him any differently. Feeling relieved, Harry took in the rest of the room. At the front, there was a table for the staff where he saw both Dumbledore and Master Snape. Above them, there was an enchantment to show the night sky outside so it looked as though there were no ceiling.

Harry was unsurprised to see the tattered hat on the stool in the front. On his birthday, he had managed to convince an older Slytherin to unveil how Hogwarts sorted its students. The four houses, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

Draco was so sure of himself as a Slytherin that his brother didn't really worry about it. Harry was also sure that the House of the snakes was for him, but he still felt a small bit of doubt shadowing his thoughts. Really though, if it wasn't Slytherin, it was surely Ravenclaw.

The Sorting Hat ceremony started as a professor made her way to the stool, holding a roll of parchment that had the first year students' names. The students quieted down as unexpectedly, the hat on the stool burst into song. Harry nudged Draco as the hat sang of Slytherin. His brother smiled back and him with agreement. It had said "_Or perhaps in Slytherin, you'll make your real friends, those cunning folks use any means to achieve their ends."_

Beside him stood the other children from the dark families and he knew that they understood clearly what the hat had implied. Somehow, the hat knew of the bonds that their dark society had. To other people, it was just a rhyme, meaningless and cute. To them... to Harry, Draco, and the rest of the children that had grown up in their world, it was something more, an invitation to join in strength against the sure prejudice that they would face.

Harry was looking forward to joining the Slytherin House.

He watched as all his friends joined Slytherin. He noted that, surprisingly Neville, who he would've thought to be Hufflepuff material, had joined Gryffindor. The two other people he had met on the train had also joined Gryffindor and Harry was relieved that he wouldn't be going into that house. He watched amused as Draco walked to the Slytherin table after the hat had barely touched his hair. He gave Harry a grin and made a gesture that said he was saving him a seat.

Then the moment came where his name was called. As soon as "Harry Potter" was called, whispers broke out and heads turned to watch as he slowly made his way to the stool. He walked with sure confidence, his steps echoing in his ears as he reached the stool. The woman who had called him, Professor McGonagall had smiled at him but Harry just sat and stared forward at the many faces of the students. They watched him in fascination, wondering where he would be sorted. Many believed that he would surely be placed in Gryffindor as he was the savior of the wizarding world, the defeater of a Dark Lord. _Well they're in for a pleasant surprise, _Harry thought in grim anticipation.

The hat was lowered onto his head, the rim almost going over his eyes.

He could hear a voice echo in his head and was surprised to hear the hat humming to itself. He felt something like the flipping of pages inside his mind before the voice exclaimed.

_Oh my. Oh my, my, my. What a mind! _The voice in his head said. Harry couldn't describe how the voice sounded; it was like several people talking at once each saying the same thing. Y_ou are a magnificent piece of work, dear child! But where to put you I wonder... I see you seem set on Slytherin, but we must explore allllllll options! Now, let's see..._

The voice became slightly quieter, more inquisitive. _I see Ravenclaw smarts in there, such a yearning to learn more. You'd devour the library here in a matter of months, I'm sure. _The voice became more delighted the more it talked before it abruptly shifted, sounding sterner._ And such bravery, going against others of higher authority! But no, no, you don't have the recklessness that most Gryffindors possess, that is true. No foolishly running into danger for you, I don't think._

_Your sense of loyalty is admirable, however. _The voice continued to ponder, the voice turning slightly cynical. _I wonder, would you kill for those you love?_ _Ah... well! Hufflepuff is also a candidate, does that surprise you? Oh, I sense some disgust in there, but don't you worry, you have some compassion in you, some empathy for others, yes, but it is not what drives you. _

The hat shifted on his head as though it couldn't contain its excitement.

_Oh child. You are a delight! Let's see. All these qualities... and you put them to use for... what? Oh... I see. Yes! You crave approval, you crave power. You do! _It hummed and pondered to itself._ Well, I've never had such a hard case to decide for... I know. What do you want, Harry Potter of the Malfoys? Where do you belong?_

Harry's mind spun. The hat was offering him his choice of house? "_Slytherin of course!_" was his immediate answer.

_Slytherin! _Its laughter rang inside his head, oddly amused. _Of course it would be. Well then, Harry Potter, we'll see you off to..._!

It took in a deep breath then the hat paused before exclaiming.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

_What?!_

Harry paled, feeling all the blood drain from his face as Professor McGonagall took the hat off. The Gryffindor table burst into applause. Shouts of "We got Potter!" and cheers were echoing in the great expanse of the room.

On the other side, the Slytherins were quiet. A sense of panic gripped Harry as the the eyes of Slytherin students bore into him. They stared at him, him... the adopted Malfoy son who had attended so many numerous occasions and balls. Him, who had talked and mingled with the families of the dark society, and he was to go to Gryffindor. Draco stared at him from the Slytherin table, disbelief in his eyes matching the confusion in Harry's ashen face.

Harry's mind was a jumble of confusion as a professor led him off the stool and towards Gryffindor. The sounds of the great hall fell into a buzz as he was overwhelmed with a sense of numbness. He flinched away as hands clapped him on the back, alien faces grinning at him, congratulating and welcoming him into the house of the lions. On his black school robes, he saw the swirl of magic as a Gryffindor badge manifested, proclaiming his sorted house. The lion on the badge roared at him, as though accusing him of falsehood. It was wrong! He was SLYTHERIN, not Gryffindor! That phrase swirled inside his mind, but the shock had set in, drowning all noise and thoughts into nothingness.

There amongst the lions of red and gold was a snake.


End file.
